


The Buddy Collections

by EclecticRegard



Series: Unapologetically Us [1]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Drabble Collection, Drug Use, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, Pre-Slash, Romance, Slash, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-28
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 64
Words: 39,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticRegard/pseuds/EclecticRegard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of one-shots involving mainly HouseWilson. Contains pre-slash, slash, and now a bit of HouseWilsonChase in a few chapters .  </p><p>Additional warnings will be stated at the beginning of each chapter as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Name Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Started this a few years ago, and slowly developed it over time. It's very obvious that, at the start of this series, my writing skills were more than lacking. However, over the years I feel as though I definitely improved. Thanks to all that have stuck with me throughout this journey!
> 
> Un-beta'd.

As a doctor who had always practiced medicine and treated patients his own way, other's opinions be damned, he had grown quite used to being called various names and phrases. The common choices made by patients, their families, and especially his colleagues were: "bastard", "heartless", "moron, "heartless moron", "heartless bastard", and his personal favorite "fuck you".

But the phrase Dr. Gregory House heard uttered from his closest, and only, friend had actually bewildered him, which in turn bewildered him even more.

He raised a brow at the oncologist behind the desk, "Did you just say what I think you said?"

The dark-eyed brunet didn't bother looking up from his paperwork, "You heard me."

"Figures." The blue eyed brunette leaned back in his chair, "Kinda childish, don'cha think? 'Miserable, gimp-ified, pathetic excuse for a human being'. Rolls right off the tongue though, I'll give you that."

"Well if you would stop _acting_ childish, I would have no reason to resort to name calling." Wilson pointed out, still not looking up at his friend.

"But where's the fun in that?" House asked cheerfully.

Brown eyes finally shot up to look into his own, "House, these are people's _lives_ here! You can't perform tests just because you think they're 'fun'! What if you had made a mistake, huh?"

"Hmph. We both know that would never happen."

Wilson sighed, "We both know that you're not perfect, either. You can't keep evading responsibility!"

"Aww. But, it just comes so naturally." The brunette pouted, getting to his feet.

"You know, Cuddy's going to be looking for you."

"Which is exactly why I want to get the hell out of here before she snags me into her web of boring, pointless lecturing." And with that, House gripped his cane and headed out of the oncologist's office towards his own.


	2. Needless Insults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No additional warnings apply to this chapter.

The blue eyed doctor awoke with a start as his office lights were turned on. After taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the unwanted brightness, he shot a glare at the person who had dared to intrude upon his late-night nap.

Dr. James Wilson stood just beyond the desk, arms crossed, staring down at his friend, "What did you do this time?"

The other pulled his legs off of his desk and sat up, "Such a rhetorical question... Why do you automatically assume that I've done something?"

"Seeing as how Foreman was fine when he came in, and is now fire-spitting mad, there's only one explanation for his sudden mood-swing: you."

House put on a look of pure insult, "How dare you come up with the correct answer!"

Wilson sat down in an empty chair, giving his blue eyed friend a reproachful glance, "You do know that there's no reason to needlessly insult his every thought and idea, don't you?"

"Of course I do, but if I  _didn't_  needlessly insult him, I would most likely resort to picking on you or Cuddy." House stated, pulling out his much-loved Game Boy.

Wilson gave him an incredulous look, "You don't already?"

"Not to my full capabilities. I like to save the left-overs for Cameron, Chase, and the patients."

"If you keep this up you'll probably get shot again, in a more sacred, sensitive area."

"Well it just so happens that I'm willing to take that chance."

Wilson sat back to observe his friend in silence. He watched the blue eyes light up in what he assumed was victory due to the winning of some simulated race or fight. He didn't know how long they sat there. Seconds, perhaps hours even. Time didn't seem all that relevant when spending it with one's best friend.

House finally set the game system down, and turned to look at Wilson, "There's booze and porn back at my place. You coming?"

Wilson blinked, then nodded, "Sure."


	3. Tattletale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No additional warnings apply to this chapter.

"Wilson!"

The oncologist dropped off and picked up his necessary files, and went on his way, ignoring his name being yelled down the halls.

Moments later, he noticed a familiar limping figure out of the corner of his right eye, "Hello, House. How are you today?"

"Cut the crap. Why the hell did you give me up to Cuddy?" The blue eyed diagnostician demanded.

"Do you really have to ask?" The dark eyed oncologist sighed, "I did it for your own good."

"Since when do you have the right to decide what is and isn't good for me?"

Wilson offered him a smug grin, "Well, I have a legal obligation to do so since you won't do it yourself, and you don't have any other friends."

House narrowed his eyes, "I hate you."

"Gee, I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me all year."

"I swear, you damn tattletale, this isn't the last you've heard from me." The man's piercing blue eyes stared into his friends' dark ones.

Wilson audibly gulped and widened his eyes purposefully, "Oh no!"

"Yuk it up, Jimmy boy."

Wilson stopped and watched him limp his way towards the elevator, "Where are you going? Did you forget your office is that way?"

"No, you idiot. Thanks to you, I'm on clinic duty for the day." House stepped into the elevator, pressed the button, and sent his friend one last heated glare before the doors closed.

Wilson turned and continued along his way to his office, completely unfazed by the threat. It had become an almost daily occurrence.


	4. Comfy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No additional warnings apply to this chapter.

It was late at night in the home of Dr. House. Said doctor had invited his friend over for beer, and it was looking as though the oncologist would be staying the night. They were getting pretty wasted, after all.

"--And, that, Jimmy boy, is why I prefer being drunk with friends over being sober with friends." House concluded, taking a drink of his beer.

Wilson looked at him, "God, Greg, you talk too damn much."

The blue eyed man let out a little chuckle, "And you're obviously drunk."

"How's-" _hiccup_ "-that?"

"You hardly ever call me by my first name, Jimmy boy."

Wilson studied his drink for a moment, then shrugged, "I have a perfectly good excuse, right here in my hand."

"Or maybe your suppressed attraction for me is finally surfacing?" House suggested with a smirk.

It was the dark eyed man's turn to chuckle, "Yeah, that's  _gotta_  be it."

xXx

House woke up the following day to find the sun in his eyes. He let out a groan, and went to turn, finding he couldn't. There was an unfamiliar weight on his lap. It was all over, so he figured that either A) the numbing pain from his right leg had some how shifted so that it was now in both legs, or B) there was a foreign object in his lap that he hadn't put there.

He looked down. He smirked to himself,  _'Choice "B" it is.'_

Wilson's head had somehow managed to make its way to House's lap, his face turned out towards the television. Blue eyes trailed down the prone form, finding that the other's legs were hanging over the arm of the couch. He looked back at the peaceful, sleeping face. This was gonna serve as future fun and teasing for sure.

He put a hand on the other's soft, brown hair, and gently shook the head beneath it, "Wilson."

The man merely let out a sigh.

He shook him a bit harder, "Wilson."

A hand reached up to push away the annoyance, "Go 'way..."

House sighed, and narrowed his eyes, "No, dammit. Get the hell up."

"No... too comfy."

The diagnostician smirked wickedly. Oh yes. Wonderful teasing material.

He shoved the other's head again, "I don't care how 'comfy' my lap is. Get up."

Wilson's eyes shot open, "Y-Your what?"

House gripped the man's hair and forced his head to turn and face him. His smile was full of amusement, "Good morning, Wilson."

The brunette's eyes widened, horrified, as he realized the compromising situation both he and his fellow doctor were in. He quickly sat up, turning his body so that his legs faced the television. He rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to look at the other, his face bright red.

"What? No good morning kiss?"

"Shut up."


	5. Discussion

It was mid-afternoon, and House's team was currently in the lab running tests for a dying teenager.

Something had been nagging the young, blonde man for quite some time. He knew it wasn't really any of his business, but he couldn't help being curious. Especially when it came to his boss, the most complex and mysterious man he had ever met.

Without looking away from the computer screen, he simply commented, "House likes to spend a lot of time with Dr. Wilson."

The other two looked over at him questioningly.

"Of course he does. They're close friends." Cameron pointed out.

"Well sure, but I'm no where near as close with my close friends as they are." the blonde retorted.

"You're just being close-minded." the brunette insisted.

"He does have a point, you know." Foreman stated.

The woman sighed, then nodded slightly, "I'll admit that it seems just a little odd, but even if there is something going on, it's none of our concern."

"No..." the blonde trailed off, then offered her a grin, "But it's interesting to wonder about, isn't it?"

She smiled, and returned to her work. After minutes of silence, she spoke again.

"Come to think of it... I saw them walking together, and House sort of muttered something to Wilson, and the poor guy turned bright red on the spot."

The neurologist glanced at her, "You don't suppose they're...?"

She shrugged, "Could be."

The I.C.M. specialist (1) shook his head, "No way. Well, not completely anyways. Maybe they're just gay with each other?"

"Heh, yeah. House isn't homosexual, he's Wilson-sexual."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. "I.C.M." is used to abbreviate Intensive Care Medicine, which is Chase's specialty.


	6. Behave, House

"Gregory House, if you don't get your grubby hand off of my ass,  _now_ , so help me god I will cut it off!" Wilson muttered angrily under his breath.

The man with said hand on the others' ass simply gave it a light pat, "You never complain about my hand being there any other time."

"That's because any other time, we're in a closed office or at home, not in the middle of the crowded clinic!"

"We're not in the middle. More like off to the side." the diagnostician pointed out with a grin.

The oncologist shot a glare at him, "I told you before, no P.D.A. at work."

"...And what does that mean again?"

"P.D.A. - Public Display of Affection."

"Fine. But, your ass is mine when we get home -- literally." House stated, finally moving away.

Wilson gave him a coy smile before turning to head towards his office, "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

xXx

House woke up the following day with a sharp pain in his leg. He let out a groan, and rolled over to grab for his pills. After popping a few, he opened an eye and scowled. The sun was shining brightly into the bedroom. He laid back down and turned to wrap his arms around his smaller companion, only to find that he wasn't there.

He sniffed. There were two places the oncologist could be: in the bathroom getting ready, or in the kitchen making breakfast. It had taken the short amount of time Wilson had stayed with him, as a friend who's wife was cheating, for him to figure out and memorize the man's morning habits.

He got out of bed, throwing on his pajama pants and grabbing his cane. He made his way around the bed and went to investigate Wilson's whereabouts.

He found the man standing at the counter, blending pancake mix in a bowl. House leaned against the doorway, watching the other intently.

He was recently showered, and dressed in his usual dress pants-and-shirt combination, sleeves rolled neatly up to his elbows. He was humming a happy little tune, and the diagnostician noticed that his ass was swaying ever so slightly.

The taller man set his cane against the wall and walked as quietly as possible up behind the smaller man. He wrapped an arm around the other's waist and gave his left earlobe a lick.

Wilson let out a gasp, and nearly dropped the mixing bowl. He set the bowl down and glared over his shoulder at the other, "House!"

The man in question smiled innocently, resting his chin on Wilson's shoulder. In a sincere tone, he asked, "What is it, darling?"

"Don't 'darling' me! You know I  _hate_  it when you do that." he half-whined.

He licked the earlobe again, "So... what're you making me for breakfast?"

"I'm making  _us_  macadamia nut pancakes." Wilson corrected/replied, picking up the spoon and continuing to mix the batter.

House moved his tongue from the other's earlobe to his neck, sucking and nibbling at the flesh. Wilson couldn't help but let out a low moan.

"G-Greg... no kitchen sex. It's just unsanitary." he said breathily.

House smirked, "But you aren't saying 'no' to a morning fuck?"

Wilson shook his head, "No, I'm not. Just... not here, okay?"

"Fine by me. Bed's easier on my leg anyways."


	7. She Knows

It was around lunchtime at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. In the cafeteria, the infamous duo sat at a table, eating lunch that the oncologist always paid for.

The shorter man was fidgety, not really eating, and staring at his food rather than looking at his companion. He could feel the pair of blue eyes casting their piercing glance at him. It only made him fidget more.

The diagnostician swallowed his mouthful, frowning at the other's unusual display of discomfort. Most days, he would spill his guts to House about anything and everything.

He sighed, and sat back in his chair, "So, you gonna tell me what's wrong already?"

The oncologist rubbed the back of his neck, "Um... no?"

"C'mon, spit it out."

Wilson forced himself to look up at the other. He stared at him for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, and leaned forward to whisper, "Cuddy asked me why I was limping today."

"So what? You just made up a lie, right?"

"... N-Not exactly."

"Wilson... what  _did_  you tell her?"

"I, uh, I told her I had sex, and she automatically guessed it was with you!"

"Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh'."

They sat in silence for several minutes; neither ate or even looked at each other. Finally, House broke the silence.

"So, there's a marathon of "The L-Word" coming on tonight. You wanna come over and watch?"

The oncologist's jaw dropped, "Are you serious? What about Cuddy?"

"Oh, you want to invite her to join us? Well, okay, but I had planned on a little groping going on during commercials. You think she'd be into that?" the diagnostician smiled innocently.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Wilson huffed, "Aren't we going to do something about her knowing? What if she tells the others?"

"Well, so what? If she tells people then all the pathetic nurses will stop flirting with you as a last resort and Cameron will get off of my back." House stated.

"But, I..." the brown eyed man sighed, and nodded, "What time does "The L-Word" start?"


	8. Cops

Blue eyes narrowed in heated jealousy from their place behind the shades of the empty exam room. Oh, yes. House was spying on Wilson.

He didn't feel at all guilty about it, either. Actually, he felt like he had a  _right_  to, as well as a damn good reason to.

About three hours ago, the victim of an assault had arrived in the E.R. And since this particular department was short-staffed, Cuddy had relieved Wilson of his daily clinic duty and sent him there for the day.

Once he had treated the patient, the police had arrived to get a statement from the young woman. One officer entered the room while their partner stayed out, talking to Wilson instead.

The diagnostician had no clue what they were talking about. Frankly, he didn't care. They were standing far too close together, and he could see the officer checking out the shorter brunette.

The oncologist held up the patient's file to read something aloud to the officer. When he looked up to meet the other's eyes, he flushed darkly once he realized the officer was staring at him intently. Clumsily, Wilson made to shut the file and instead dropped it. When he leaned over to pick it up, the officer stood back to admire the view before him.

It was all House could do to not storm out there and beat the law enforcer with his cane. Instead, he popped a vicodin, took in a few calming breaths, and exited the room. He arrived in front of the two just as Wilson was standing back up.

"Oh, House. Did you need something? I'm almost done here-"

Without a word, House reached out and grabbed the shorter man's shirt collar, yanking him close. He placed an intense, bruising kiss on his lips and pulled back, "I'll stop by your office later to pick up where I've left off."

Wilson stared at him with wide eyes and dark red cheeks, trying to process what had just happened. The officer had a look of surprise as well, mixed with disappointment and annoyance. House glared at him with his piercing gaze. He patted Wilson's ass for good measure, smirking at the officer as he did so. Silently, he turned and wandered off.

That would teach the stupid cop to look inappropriately at  _his_  things.


	9. Quick

House paced back-and-forth in his office. The diagnostician had a serious problem: he was bored. He had tried playing his GameBoy, his guitar, and had even made some rather good jokes about Cuddy, but it was all futile. He was still bored as hell.

He let out a sigh, and headed for the clinic. Not that he was planning on helping out there. Wilson was there, and the man was usually able to aid him in getting rid of his boredom.

The older doctor went through and checked each exam room until he finally found Wilson. The oncologist seemed to be busy with a patient, and was currently writing something in the patient's chart.

Without looking towards the door, he said, "I'm busy, House. Come back later."

The other entered the room, leaning up against the wall, "Aw. And here I was hoping for a quickie."

Brown eyes shot up and stared at him, wide. The patient shifted uncomfortably on the exam table, rubbing the back of his head, "Uh... I-I think I'm okay, doctor. It's probably just a... cold or something. Thanks for your time." Not waiting for a reply, the man stood up and hurried out the door, shutting it behind him.

Wilson slowly got to his feet, now glaring at his friend, "House! Why the hell'd you do that?"

He shrugged, "I've been bored today, Jimmy boy."

"Well, don't do things like that! Cuddy will reprimand us both if you start scaring away patient's  _I'm_ examining!"

"What're you so upset about? An afternoon quickie doesn't turn you on?"

"Not when I'm in the middle of an exam, you goddamn pervert!" the shorter man almost shrieked indignantly, blushing slightly.

House reached over, locking the door, "You're not in the middle of an exam now."

Wilson sighed, blushing harder, " _Fine_ , but you'd better leave me alone to finish my work after this."

"But of course."


	10. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set during the time Wilson stayed with House while going through his break up with his third wife, Julie -- who may be OOC?

It was late one weeknight in House's apartment. The lights were all shut off, and the diagnostician lay prone in his bed, in a deep sleep for once. Down the hall in the living room, his couch was filled with a calmly sleeping oncologist.

The land line rang suddenly, echoing loudly in House's ears. He remained still, though awake, willing the ring to stop. He chanced a glance at the clock: 3:37 a.m. Seven rings later, he dragged himself over to the other side of the bed, grabbed the receiver and grunted, "Who the hell is this?"

The line was quiet for a moment, though he could hear someone breathing. Just as he was about to hang up, figuring it was a crank call, a voice said, "H-House?"

He sighed. He had been rooting for a crank call; he didn't want to waste precious sleep-time talking. "Yeah."

"It's, um, it's... Julie, James' - just Julie." the voice slurred slightly; the woman was clearly some level of drunk.

"Great. What do you want?"

"How's James?"

"Considering the fact that he was kicked out of his own house by his cheating wife? He's walking on sunshine, of course."

"Oh, shut up." the voice snapped, "I know that all the time he's been with you rather than with me wasn't spent drinking beers or just hanging out."

House placed a hand over his eyes. He did  _not_  need this right now. "What do you suppose we were doing, then? Having wild, gay sex?"

The line was silent in reply.

He sat up, wide awake now, "What, seriously?"

"Don't play dumbass with me! I can't tell you how many times I laid in bed awake, listening to Wilson talking in his sleep about you. It's always "Greg this" and "Greg that"!"

"... He doesn't call me 'Greg'." he pointed out.

"Of course he does! Even when he's awake. Any time he talks about you at home, it's always 'Greg'." She paused, he assumed to take another drink. "I heard him admit in his sleep that he's too embarrassed to call you 'Greg' to your face. You'd probably tease him or something. ... Blah, blah, blah, "I'm a poor little closeted oncologist"."

The diagnostician listened intently. He wasn't sure whether it was her drink talking, or if it was actually true. Maybe, just  _maybe_ , he couldn't read his best friend as well as he'd thought.

"Julie. Get off the phone, go to bed, sleep off the booze."

Another pause. "Alright. That's a good idea. Say hi to James for me!" she added before hanging up.

House slowly set the phone back on its base, blinking. He wasn't sure whether he should feel uncomfortable or some sort of flattered. After a small debate with himself, he decided on curious. This piece of gossip was definitely something he would have to experiment with soon. He laid his head back, resting comfortably on his pillows, deciding which choice phrase would be best to greet Wilson with the following morning.


	11. Experimentation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to 'The Call'.

The morning after he had gotten 'The Call' (or more accurately, a few hours after), House had remained rather quiet, planning his work day/experimenting perfectly. He would barely even mumble replies when asked a question by his friend.

He kept wondering: if what Julie had said were true, what else didn't he know about Wilson?

The aforementioned oncologist was somewhat thrown off by the taller man's unusual behavior. At this point in the morning, the diagnostician should have started harassing him about the length of his grooming time. Instead, he simply shut the door to his bedroom, emerging minutes later, dressed and waiting patiently for the bathroom to become free.

They rode to work separately, which wasn't so unusual. However, House had actually left first. Now, that belonged under the 'Things That Won't Happen Even If Hell Freezes Over' category. The younger brunette was just completely baffled. He was brought out of his daze once he reached the hospital; it was a thankfully busy morning in the oncology department.

\-----

A couple of hours had passed since the official work day started. The diagnostic department had no cases, so the fellowship members had dispersed, hoping to find something to do, leaving House to his own devices.

He bounced the red/gray ball over-and-over against the wall, his brain working quickly. Unbeknownst to him, he had a small, almost wicked, smirk gracing his lips.

Movement across the way caught his attention. He could see that Wilson had finally gotten some time to relax in his office through the glass doors. He watched the slighter man fall back into his chair, chest heaving in a big sigh.

That was his cue.

As quickly as he could manage, House got to his feet and left his office, heading straight for the front door of his friend's office. Without bothering to knock he walked in, shutting and locking the door behind him. He sat in one of the seats across from Wilson's, and leaned back, ready to have some fun.

Brown eyes barely even bothered glancing at him; they were too used to his antics at this point, "Hey, House."

"Hello... James."

The younger brunette blinked at him. His friend usually only called him by his first name when they were teasing each other. "Uh, is something wrong?"

"Oh, not at all." A dismissive hand waved to the side. "I was just sitting in my office, and all of the sudden I thought 'Hey, I should go see James!', and now here I am."

"Oh... I see." The oncologist stared at the other, 'I'm confused' written all over his face. It was all the older man could do to keep from chuckling.

They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at each other. Finally, House spoke.

"You know, I never did get why we don't use each others first names. Wouldn't you like it if you could just call me 'Greg' to my face?" He leaned forward, a knowing smile on his face.

Wilson's eyes widened slightly , his mind working in over-time. Eventually, the look of realization hit his face, "Julie didn't tell you what... what I said, did she?" Silence replied. He sat back, placing his hands over his eyes and groaning audibly, "Dammit!"

"I must say she's quite the talkative, late-night drunk." the diagnostician stated conversationally, leaning back in his chair.

Brown eyes peeked out from between the now-spread fingers, watching the older man carefully. Piercing blue eyes met them.

Once again, they sat in silence. And once again, House broke the silence.

The question held a tone of seriousness, masking the teasing portion, "So, have you dreamt about us doing it yet?"

The reply was uncharacteristically high-pitched, accompanied by flushed cheeks, "House!!!"


	12. Ice Cream

It was a warm Sunday afternoon. The infamous doctor duo had taken the opportunity to go out on an unofficial date. They called their dates unofficial now since they had been living together for several months and didn't feel the need to 'date' any more.

The diagnostician had led the oncologist into an ice cream shop, and they were currently sitting down enjoying the frozen treats. Or, Wilson was at least.

House, on the other hand, was too busy watching the younger doctor eat.

His attention was drawn to the way the brunette would carefully select a small portion from his dish, and scoop it up gracefully. After wards, he would slowly bring the spoon to his lips, which were parted ever so slightly. He would slip the spoon past his lips, getting a bit of the ice cream on them as he closed his mouth before pulling the spoon back out.

After a few minutes, Wilson began to realize that House was staring at him, "Um... House? Are you okay? You're ice cream's melting, you know."

The others hazy blue eyes looked into Wilson's eyes, then blinked, bringing himself out of his trance.

"I'm fine, Wilson. Just fine."

"Right. If you say so." He sighed, and went back to his ice cream.

The diagnostician watched him eat another spoonful, then leaned forward so the oncologist could hear him whisper, "I'm  _so_  fucking you into the mattress when we get home."

A somewhat unmanly gasp escaped Wilson's lips, " _House_! For God's sake, don't say stuff like that in public!"

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't such a damn tease."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, genuinely confused.

"It's nothing, Jimmy boy. Just go back to eating your ice cream."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Oh, c'mon, James! Please?"

At this, the other tilted his head, "Why... Why are you so interested in me finishing my ice cream?"

House gave him a serious look, "Because I want to finish getting off under the table."

"House! That's disgusting!"

"Hey, you asked."


	13. Beauty's at the Beast's

The moment he walked through the door, House knew something was off. He could sense it. Nothing seemed out of place visibly, at least not yet. His television was still intact, his piano was untouched, the couch was perfectly fine. So, just what was it that had his "House-senses" tingling?

He quietly laid his keys into the bowl near the door, hoping to not alert Wilson of his presence until after he had a chance to further inspect their apartment. He made his way towards the hallway and stopped dead in his tracks when something in the kitchen caught his attention.

Wilson was bent over so he was more level with the kitchen island, softly cooing at something upon it. Looking closer, House realized that there was a small gray kitten with black stripes sitting on the island.

... A  _kitten_  on the island? Oh,  _somebody_  had just dug his cute little oncologist ass into a deep hole.

Wilson nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard House clearing his throat. He looked over at him, guilt in his eyes, "Oh, um... welcome home, House."

The diagnostician grunted in reply, walking into the kitchen. He stopped short of moving past the island, looking down at the little ball of fur that was still rubbing against Wilson's hand contently, "Well? Care to explain what that...  _thing_  is doing here?"

The younger man huffed, lifting the kitten into his hand and holding her close against his chest, "She's not a thing, she's a kitten. And, I found her on the street."

"You... found her, on the street. Oh, the street where all those disease-ridden animals hang out? Well, why don't we bring in every little helpless looking creature, then?" he grumbled sarcastically.

"House! Her mother's dead and she's just a baby."

"So take her to the animal shelter."

"I'm not taking her to the shelter! They put down any animals that aren't adopted after a certain period of time!"

House nearly sneered at the kitten, "How tragic."

" _Greg_!" Brown eyes stared up at him in disbelief.

"So, you want to keep it?"

"Her, not it."

"Whatever. You want to keep it?"

"Well... I've always liked pets and you seem to, too."

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then." the diagnostician studied his friend, his lover for a moment, and found that he couldn't say 'no' to his pleading face. Resigned, he sighed, "I'm not cleaning up after it."

Wilson's face lit up, "I didn't expect you to."

"Good. What's it's name?"

"I was thinking... Belle." the younger man replied, looking down at the kitten.

"That's really gay." House snorted slightly, "But, it's your cat."

"Thanks." he smiled up at him softly.

"Hmph, don't think you're getting off the hook so easily. You owe me."

"...What, exactly?"

"Oh, wait and see. Just keep in mind that you might want to call out from work for a few days, seeing as you won't be able to walk properly."

" _House_!" Wilson nearly shrieked indignantly.


	14. Engrossed

Things had started out rather well that day for the two doctors. They both slept peacefully in each other's arms and woke up at a reasonable time. Using that time wisely, they fooled around a bit and then got ready for work.

As soon as they got to work, though, things started going downhill. There was a shortage of doctors and an abundance of patients, so they were both immediately placed in the clinic for a few hours. Once things started to settle down, House was called to his office to discuss a new patient and Wilson had to check in with the patients in his cancer ward.

They passed each other a few times in the hallways, but could never spare more than a wave or a quick 'hello'.

Finally, after what seemed like forever to the diagnostician, he was able to just sit back in his office and take a breather. His team was off running tests on the patient and trying to get consent forms signed, and he had absolutely no idea what Wilson might be doing.

House leaned back in his chair and quickly drifted into a light sleep.

About an hour later, Wilson was walking back to his office, no longer in a hurry. Things had finally slowed down in his world of oncology and his attention was no longer requested by what had felt like every single damn patient of his. He passed by House's office and found himself looking longingly inside for any signs of the man having a free moment.

The older man was sitting in the chair facing away from the window in the more open area of the office. Quietly, Wilson entered the room and found House leaning back, sleeping. The oncologist smiled softly at the sight of the man being so relaxed, so peaceful looking, so out of character.

Slowly, he walked over to him and kneeled beside him, a hand reaching out to gently caress the other's cheek. House grunted, but otherwise didn't respond. Wilson leaned forward and kissed him. Eventually, House's eyes fluttered open and he smirked into the kiss, reaching a hand up to card through the other's boyish brown hair.

The two were so busy with each other that they didn't hear the door open, only to be shut seconds later.

House's team stood outside the door, staring at each other with widened eyes.

"O... kay. I think... we should go finish with the tests. Reporting to House can wait." Foreman decided, turning around and walking away.

"Right!" Chase was close to follow.

Cameron shook her head, "... Is  _that_  why he didn't want to get with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that nobody in the show truly irritates me. I just enjoy making fun of them at one point or another.


	15. Glorious View

Normally, Cuddy let House get away with anything. Mainly because he was usually right about everything, even if his methods were a bit unorthodox. Patients rarely complained once they were healed, so there was never any reason to make a big deal out of things.

Except this time.

Though, this time, it really had nothing to do with House or his strange methods. However, since Cuddy couldn't consciously blame Chase without feeling like a total bitch, she figured the next best person to yell at about the fact that the hospital was getting sued was the patient's over-all attending: the head of the diagnostics department himself.

Her car came to a stop outside House's apartment and she got out and stormed to his door, beginning to bang on it with her fist, careless of the fact that it was the middle of the night.

A couple of minutes later, she heard the familiar  _step-clunk step-clunk_  coming from the bedroom.

"Who the hell is it?"

"It's me, House. Open the door."

"Fuck off. It's 2 a.m."

"Open it or I'll break it down!"

A pause, then the  _step-clunk_ 's came to the door. Slowly, the door opened, revealing the disheveled version of the doctor. She could only see his upper half, since he was peering around the door. That could only mean that he was naked.

"What. Do.  _You_. Want?" he growled.

"I came to talk to you about the Kayla McGinley case."

He immediately rolled his eyes, "Wasn't making Foreman my boss for the month punishment enough?"

"House, you know I didn't have a choice in that matter."

"Sure. You could've given the job to Chase or Cameron."

"Then things wouldn't have changed. They would crumble if they tried butting heads with you."

At this statement, a smirk flashed across House's face. "They're not the only ones..." he mumbled.

"What the hell does  _that_  mean?" the woman demanded.

"Oh, nothing at all. So, have you said what you came here to say?"

"No." She simply pushed past him and walked into the apartment.

Huffing, House shut the door. Luckily, the place was nearly completely dark, casting a shadow on the parts he wouldn't normally flash to his boss.

Cuddy took a moment and realized that her nose was being met by the musky, familiar smell of sex, "Oh, god, House. A hooker?"

"Yes, I have a hooker in my bed. I haven't yet finished properly spending my hundred bucks, so leave."

Cuddy shot a glare up at him before storming off to his bedroom. Staring at her for a moment, he gaped. Then caught himself and hurried after her.

"Hey, you can't just-"

She threw the door open, "Look, you need to leave. Now. I don't care how much he paid you, he's busy-" Cuddy cut herself off and stared wide-eyed at the scene before her.

There, right in the middle of House's large bed, lay her head of the oncology department. He was on his back, legs spread invitingly, and the sweat covering his body glistening in the street lights that streamed in through the half-closed window blinds.

He lifted his head and turned the darkest shade of red Cuddy had ever seen.

"I... uh... G-Good night, House, Wilson." With that, Cuddy turned and let herself out.

"House! What the hell?" the younger man demanded angrily, still blushing.

"Oh, relax. Look at the bright side."

" _What_  bright side?"

"She'll never come back here to bother me in the middle of the night ever again."


	16. Bow Chika Bow Bow

One night after work, the infamous doctor duo piled into Wilson's car and prepared to head home. The diagnostician had a detour in mind, though.

"No, House." the oncologist sighed as he started up the engine.

A childish huff emanated from his companion, "But  _Wilson_! You discontinued the movie networks on the cable plan! It's the least you could do for me!"

The younger man sat silently in thought as he drove out of the hospital parking lot, "Fine. What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

After a quick stop at the movie rental store, the two returned to their shared apartment.

While House settled on the couch with a glass of Burbon to relax, Wilson cooked them a quick, simple dinner. He brought two plates out to the living room, set the DVD into the player, and sat down on the couch.

Just as he put a bite of food into his mouth, the words  _Deep Throat_  flashed across the screen, with stereotypical 1970's music playing in the background. He nearly choked on his food, but managed to chew and swallow, staring at the screen with horrified eyes.

A few minutes into the movie, he chanced a glance at House, blushing darkly. The man was too busy watching the screen curiously. They finished their food in silence, letting the movie run all the way through it's sixty-one minutes' length.

Finally, the words "The End. And Deep Throat to you all." came on the screen, signalling the movie's end. Wilson stood up and rushed off to the kitchen, his neck, face, and ears completely red with embarrassment.

He heard House come up behind him, resting his chin on his shoulder and placing an arm around his waist. He could just hear the smirk in his voice.

"I had no idea you thought porn was proper viewing material for dinner time."

"I-It was an accident!" he insisted, whimpering slightly.

"Hm... Maybe next time you won't be in such a rush then, huh?" Cool lips pressed a kiss against the oncologists red hot cheek before the man pulled away from him. Before walking away, a hand grabbed his ass and gave it a firm squeeze, "I expect sex tonight. ... Maybe we can mimic the movie, too."

"For god's sake, House, you're insatiable!" Wilson turned around to stare at him incredulously.

"Oh, c'mon. After that movie, you can't tell me you don't enjoy a good "deep throat"." House smirked.

" _House_!" Wilson shrieked, horrified, as his hand reached back and swatted the older doctor's shoulder.

The diagnostician just laughed and headed out of the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Deep Throat' is an actual pornography, but I merely researched it on the internet. I did not watch it. The website I found had that quote listed as it being the final part of the movie before the ending credits... Apparently, the movie's kinda where the term "deep throat" came from.


	17. Cleaning

Sometimes House drove Wilson completely  _insane_.

The man drank like a fish, had no regard for other people's feelings, and popped pills like they were breath mints. After a while, Wilson had learned to just accept those things and chose to ignore them whenever they were happening around him.

But there was something that he just couldn't bring himself to accept and ignore: House was a complete pig at home.

He would leave his dirty laundry strewn about the floor, let his stray or shaved-off body hair clog the drain, never used a coaster, let the dishes pile high in the sink, and didn't even bother to spray air freshener when he was done in the bathroom. All of this left Wilson to clean up after him and feel extremely pissed off.

House, on the other hand, enjoyed watching him scurry about the apartment. He reminded the diagnostician of a housewife who constantly cleaned in case company were to suddenly arrive, no matter how sexist that sounded. Now if only he could get him to wear an apron...

It was a cool Autumn evening and Wilson had come home late after having had to catch up on some paperwork. When he walked through the door the apartment was in utter chaos. It looked like somebody had walked through and simply tossed random things on the floor and over the furniture. And that certain somebody was about to pay  _dearly_.

"GREGORY HOUSE!" the oncologist shrieked, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Yes, dear?" came the cheerful reply.

The younger man stormed down the hallway to their bedroom, "Just what the hell is going on here? I come home after a long, hard day and you've completely wrecked the place!"

The diagnostician was sitting on their bed, reading a book. He looked up from the book and merely smiled, "Good to see you too, pudding pop."

"Would you stop with those stupid nicknames? I'm too pissed right now!"

"But, sugar lips, they've always made you blush before." he put on a faux-pout.

"S-Stop trying to get out of me being mad at you!" Wilson sputtered.

House sighed, "Fine. What's wrong?"

"'What's wrong...?' 'What's wrong?' The place is a fucking  _wreck_ , that's what's wrong!"

"Oh. Sorry." He shrugged and went back to his book.

"That's not going to cut it!"

"Fine. How about this, then?" House got up from his place on the bed and hobbled over to Wilson, wrapping his arms around his waist and nibbling his ear lobe, "I'll help you clean."

"... Really?"

"Yes, but on one condition."

Wilson sighed; he just knew there would be a catch. "What's that?"

House went over to the closet and pulled out a slightly frilly light blue apron, "You wear this while we clean."

"... You're a sick fuck, you know that?" Never the less, Wilson reached for the apron and started putting it on.

"Ah ah ah, baby. You wear  _only_  the apron." House stated, smirking.

Wilson's eyes shot up to stare at him, disbelievingly, "Wh-What?"

"You heard me. Now do a strip tease for me."

"Everything's all about sex with you, isn't it?" Wilson scowled.

"Duh."


	18. Debilitated

"Honey, I'm home!" House called out in a teasing tone as he shut the front door behind him, tossing his keys and bag carelessly onto the coffee table.

"Cute, House. Real cute." Came the younger man's reply from the bedroom. His voice sounded weak and cracked a bit, but such were some of the side effects of having the flu.

As the older man hobbled down the hallway, he could hear his lover sniffle and groan slightly in pain. He stopped in the bedroom doorway and was greeted by the pitiful sight of Wilson laying in their bed.

The oncologist's hair was in complete disarray and his nose and cheeks were red. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his eyes had an exhausted look to them, even though the man had probably slept a good portion of the day away.

House frowned. Wilson had contracted every single flu symptom possible, even the ones that were more likely in children than in adults. It was just so like him to share everything.

House made his way over to Wilson's side of the bed and leaned down to kiss his forehead gently, "Hmph. Still hotter than hell."

Wilson smiled weakly, "You always say that, regardless of whether I'm sick or not."

"Ha. And right now you're a bit delusional. The _real_ Wilson would never say anything so naughty." House patted the man's cheek with a smirk before frowning again, "You're shivering."

"Chills are a symptom of the flu, House." Wilson stated, slowly closing his eyes.

"What? You're going to sleep  _again_?"

"Rest is good for healing." Wilson nearly whispered.

"Fine." House went over to his side of the bed and climbed under the covers. He scooted up behind Wilson so they were spooning, House's arm holding him gently around his waist.

"If you're going to do anything to me while I'm asleep, don't wake me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Wilson stared at House, "You expect me to believe that I would say something like that?  _You're_  the one that's deranged!"

"But, it's true!"

" _Prove. It._ "

House pondered for a moment, frowning a bit and tapping his chin. Finally, he smiled, "How else can you explain that I was getting you off when you woke up?"

"'How'? You're the biggest fucking pervert alive, that's how!" Wilson shouted, blushing a bit, though part of it was probably from his fever.

"Yes, I am." House nodded in agreement before pulling the oncologist close to nuzzle his neck, "But I'm  _your_ pervert."


	19. The Suit

House really hated wearing suits. Honestly, why was it some unwritten requirement to wear the damn things to court? ... Though, he did suppose that if he hadn't screwed around with his latest patients' life then he wouldn't have found himself in the whole "suing" situation. Again.

Of course, the judge was a moron and didn't see how his offhandedness had actually saved the patients' life, so the suit was upheld. Not that it was a lot of money, but still. Enough probing and he would've eventually given the guy his damn money, rather than wearing the uncomfortable attire and listening to a boring exchange of dialouge all day.

Once court was dismissed, House got up from his seat and headed out the door. He found Wilson waiting for him, silently holding his jacket and watching him curiously.

"Lost." was the only information House offered as he walked right past the younger man. He could hear the oncologist sigh before following him.

The car ride home was quiet at first. Wilson mostly paid attention to the road while House either looked out the window or played with the radio. When his hand reached out to turn the radio off, Wilson took the opportunity to grab it, giving it a quick squeeze.

"It's okay, House. You did your job. The patient just couldn't see that that's what saved him."

"Why should I care? I'm just bummed because I was gonna use that money to buy some sex toys." House snorted, starting to pull his hand away.

Wilson held his hand firmly, determined, "Right, I'm sure."

"Pull over if you wanna talk. You need both hands to drive safely, and I kinda like living." House grumbled.

With a chuckle, the young brunette pulled over to the side of the road, turned the car off, and shifted to look at his friend, "House... it's okay if he upset you."

"I don't care about that, Wilson." House repeated petulantly, "I just hate wearing these monkey suits."

Wilson smiled softly, "If it's any consolation, I think you look handsome in a suit."

House turned to him, eyes fixed in faux-hurt, "And I don't look handsome any other time?"

"Don't tease, House-" the oncologist began right before he was pushed up against the car window, his lips being captured in a kiss.

A few minutes later, he felt a hand unzipping his pants and slipping inside. He turned his head to break the kiss, and breathlessly stammered, "H-House! We're in a car... on the side of the road!"

"Then we'd better make it quick before somebody comes and sees us, huh?" House didn't miss a beat and simply went to kissing along Wilson's jawline.

"You're exigent!"

"Oohh... I like it when you use your big vocabulary during sex."

"Eep!  _House_! Get your hand out of there!"

"Mmm... no."

" _Fine_. ...But if a cop comes up to us, I'm telling them you forced yourself on me!"


	20. Unjustified Worry

When House had told Wilson about the conditions of Cameron's return, the younger man had simply laughed it off and given his consent. When House had fretted over the way he was dressed and whether or not the corsage was "lame", Wilson had simply given him a few soothing words. When House didn't return after about two hours, Wilson began to get a little anxious.

It wasn't like he thought House would ever cheat on him, especially not with Cameron, but still. He couldn't help but feel a bit worried. After all, Cameron was an attractive, smart woman, even if she  _did_ seem a little like a crazy-stalker-bitch to him.

He settled on the couch, propped his feet up on the coffee table, and turned the television on to some news station. Without meaning to, he had fallen asleep in a matter of minutes.

House shut the door behind him and rested his forehead against it with a sigh. The evening had started out awkward and had just gotten worse when he had to actually  _explain_  why they wouldn't work out.

Slowly, he turned around and saw the blare from the television, "Wilson?"

There was no response.

He hobbled around to the front of the couch and saw Wilson sitting there, his head back against the couch. His lips were parted slightly, inviting and enticing.

Just what kind of man would House be if he ignored such a thing?

He put his left leg on the couch and leaned down, placing his lips over Wilson's. At first, the slighter man jolted a bit. Then he began to return the kiss.

It wasn't until Wilson started to lack oxygen that he woke up and found the older man's tongue practically down his throat.

" _Gregory House_!" he shrieked indignantly, shoving his friend/lover back.

House gave him an innocent smile, "What?"

"You were molesting me in my sleep, that's what!"

"Hey, don't spout off such slanderous things. My hands weren't anywhere  _near_  your naughty parts. It was only my tongue and lips."

"Oh, that's  _so_  much better!"

House frowned, "What's your problem?"

Wilson bit his lip, trying to calm down. He took in a few breaths before replying, "You... took longer getting back than I'd expected. I was getting worried."

House stared at him, then let out a sharp laugh, "You thought I would cheat on you? With  _Cameron_  of all people?"

Wilson felt his face heating up, "Well... I just..."

"Look, if I start spending way too much alone time with Cuddy or Chase or, hell, even Foreman,  _then_  you would be justified in thinking such a thing." House stated, turning and plopping back to sit next to Wilson, his arm around the other man's shoulders.

Wilson relaxed against him, resting his head against House's chest, "So... how was it?"

"It was an absolutely terrible experience that made me never want to be alone with her ever again."

Wilson smiled, his fears vanquished, "I'm sure it wasn't  _that_  bad."

"... Do the words "married a dying man  _after_  finding out he was dying" mean anything to you?"

"...Touche."


	21. Dirty Disney

House frowned as he saw Wilson glance at him from across the nurses station, blush, turn around and hurry off. Usually when the younger man behaved like this, it was because of something embarrassing House had said or done. However, he hadn't done anything lately that stuck out in his mind. ... Then again, all of the times he teased his lover tended to blend together a bit. It was always fun. He didn't bother remembering what happened when.

Wilson had been acting like an embarrassed school girl not long after they arrived at the hospital. Cuddy had called Wilson in to her office for a moment, most likely friendly morning chatter, and when he left he was blushing and stammering. When House had questioned him about it, he merely bolted up the stairs and shut himself in his office.

Being House, he couldn't just sit back and wait to be told what had happened. It was like there was an urge inside of him telling him that if he didn't find out soon the universe would be unbalanced or something.

After his team had scurried off to perform tests on their current patient, House made his way down to Cuddy's office. As usual, he walked right past her secretary ("personnal assistant" his ass) and slammed the door behind him.

Cuddy looked up from her desk, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, I just missed the sight of your cleavage. Don't mind me." House stated cheerfully, sitting down in a chair across from her desk.

"House, I'm busy. Just tell me what's wrong so I can tell you I don't care and you can leave." Cuddy turned her gaze back to the mountain of paperwork she had yet to finish.

"I was just wondering why Wilson came to the hospital normal and turned into a blushing little girl after leaving your office."

Cuddy looked back at him, incredulous, "He's _still_ upset about what I said to him?"

"Yes. Now, what the hell happened?"

"He asked me how my weekend visit with my niece went and I told him. Then I mentioned she made me watch some Disney movie... " _Aladdin_ ", I think. Anyways, I told him one of the songs reminded me of you two." (1)

"Which one?"

"Uh... 'A Whole New World'. I laughed and told him that he was so much like the princess..."

House stared, then threw his head back with a sharp laugh, "He's upset about  _that_? God, he really  _is_  a girl."

Wilson heard the familiar  _step-clunk_ and felt a sense of panic rise within him. House was coming, and he didn't have an escape route planned.

The door swung open and House walked in, shutting it behind him. He stared at Wilson for a moment in silence, his face completely expressionless. Finally, he smirked, "So, "Princess Jasmine", how's your day been?"

Wilson groaned, running a palm over his face, "Dammit... she told you?"

"Yep."

"And now you're going to tease me?"

"Not really. I think it's kinda kinky, don't you?"

"... Only you could turn a children's story into something dirty."

"I try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Does Cuddy have a niece? Hell if I know. She does for the sake of this chapter, at least.


	22. Leggo My Preggo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there are horrible m-preg dreams...

_The sun shone into the doctors' bedroom window one clear summer day. Birds could be heard chirping outside and children's voices and squeals of laughter could be heard from inside the house._

_Wilson's eyes slowly opened and he found himself laying on his back, his lover and best friend on his side beside him, watching him, "Hey... good morning. What woke you?"_

_"The kids. God, ever since you got pregnant again you've been sleeping like a log." House snorted, resting a hand on the oncologists' belly bump._

_"Hey, carrying a human being inside your belly is tough work."_

_"I know."_

_"I suppose we should get up, then?"_

_"Well... they've already eaten. So, we should have about twenty minutes." House mused, then rolled on top of the slighter man._

_"Eep! House, be careful!"_

_"Oh, calm down. I won't squish little Jimmy Jr."_

Wilson shot up into a sitting position, a loud gasp escaping him. He looked around wildly and realized that he wasn't in some little suburban house but in his and House's urban apartment, there weren't any children running around, and he  _certainly_  didn't have a pregnant stomach.

House stirred beside him, and rubbed at his eyes drowsily, "What the fuck...? Go back to sleep."

"I-I can't... Had a nightmare."

"Mmm... About what...?" The diagnostician's breathy voice told Wilson that he was already drifting back to sleep.

"Nothing." Wilson stated, giving him a quick kiss before getting up.

Wilson was unresponsive and listless throughout most of the day. He didn't even bother seeing any patients. He just kept himself shut away in his office doing mindless paperwork.

House didn't even notice. Not until it was pointed out to him.

He and his team were gathered around the office table, doing a bit of paperwork as well. Well, the  _team_ was doing paperwork. House was sucking on a sucker and playing his Game Boy.

"Any idea what's wrong with Wilson?" Cameron asked, glancing up at him from behind her reading glasses.

"Depends. How's he acting?" House inquired, not bothering to look away from his game.

"Morose. You haven't noticed?" she sounded incredulous.

"Nope." House paused his game and sat there, silently thinking.

Wilson  _had_  been acting strange. That morning, when House decided it was a good idea to get into the shower with him and have a quick go before work, Wilson didn't so much as huff in annoyance as he normally would have.

House abruptly got up from his seat, grabbed his cane, and headed for Wilson's office.

"He's such a bad boyfriend, not realizing these things..." Chase stated nonchalantly. (1)

Cameron and Foreman kept at their work for a moment longer before they both turned to look at him, wide-eyed. (2)

"What? You two haven't figured it out by now? ... Bloody Americans..." Chase sighed.

House entered the younger man's office, shutting and locking the door behind him, "So, what's wrong?"

"Huh? Who said anything was wrong?"

"Don't play stupid with me, James." House frowned, his tone teetering on scolding.

Wilson sighed and leaned back in his chair, "You remember that nightmare I had last night?"

"Uh... yeah."

"Well, I dreamed that I'd given birth to a few children.  _Our_ children. And then I was pregnant again. And we lived in a suburban house with a big yard."

House stared at him in silence. Wilson looked back at him, waiting for the teasing to start.

Instead, House walked over to him and leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss, "If I do manage to get you pregnant in real life, I give you full permission to castrate me."

"I'll hold you to that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Holy shit! For once Chase knows more than both Cameron and Foreman!
> 
> 2) Foreman's already wide-eyed, but picture them even more wide-eyed... as scary as that may be.


	23. The Plan

Wilson knew something was off the minute he walked into the apartment. He could smell non-take-out food and saw two candles lit on the coffee table. It was very clear to him that somebody had replaced House and was planning on wooing him.

"Uh, House?" he called hesitantly, shutting the door behind him.

"In here. Just a second." his lover's voice came from down the hallway.

Wilson set his bag down and slowly took his coat off, still bewildered. And when he saw House coming out of their bedroom, his bewilderment jumped to a whole new level.

The older doctor was wearing dress pants and his button-up sky blue shirt. Not only that, but the shirt was tucked in and it looked as though he'd even  _ironed_  his clothes.

House stopped a few feet away from him, "What?"

"Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?" Wilson blurted out.

"What? I can't get dressed up and try and be romantic every now and then?" House tried to look hurt.

"Uh, no. You can't. That's the complete opposite of how you are, unless you want something." At this, Wilson narrowed his eyes, "What do you want from me?"

"Who says your theory is true, honey bear?" House asked, closing the rest of the distance between them.

"You just proved it! You only call me stupid nicknames whenever you're trying to get something or weasel your way out of trouble!" Wilson replied, blushing slightly.

"Hmph. I  _was_  going to try and surprise you but since you're being such an ass, forget it." He went to turn away, putting on his best hurt expression.

Wilson could feel his heart crumble, and silently cursed himself. With a sigh, he stepped up behind his lover, pressing his body against him as he wrapped his arms around his waist and whispered with hot breath into his ear, "What is it, Greg?"

"I was planning on taking you away for a romantic weekend at a resort." House actually sounded a bit embarrassed.

"Really?" Of course, Wilson was surprised.

"Yes. But, I guess you'd rather not, since it's "not me"."

"Wait! I do, I do. I just... got caught off-guard."

House turned and planted a kiss on the slighter man's lips, "Glad to hear it."

The following day, Wilson went home before House since the diagnostician was dealing with a brand new patient. The answering machine's red light was flashing, so he pushed the play-back button. Seconds later, he heard Blythe House's voice.

"Greg, it's Mom. I was just calling to see if you were coming back home for the family reunion this weekend. Everybody would really love to see you, including me. And of course, you can bring James." she sighed, "Just call me back when you can. I love you."  _Click_.

Wilson stared at the phone. House had only planned the trip to have an excuse for not going to visit his family. Wilson  _might_  have been understanding if his father were still alive, but as that was no longer the case, he felt rather pissed off.

House finally arrived around midnight, shutting the door loudly and completely disregarding that fact that Wilson had most likely fallen asleep waiting for him.

When he saw that the younger man wasn't on the couch, he made his way to their bedroom, which was completely dark. Before he could just walk in and go to bed, the lamp on the bedside table was turned on, revealing Wilson sitting with his back against the headboard.

"Shit, James! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!"

"Would you like me to so you'd have a more legitimate excuse to not go to your family reunion?"

"Maybe." House paused, "Wait, how'd you find out?"

"You mother called."

"Oh."

"So, you weren't really being romantic or spontaneous. You were just being selfish, as usual."

"Hey-"

"House, save it. I don't feel like talking." Wilson got up and made to walk past him.

"Wait." House caught his arm, "I'm... sorry. I really had meant to take you, and then my mom called about the family reunion, so I figured I could kill two birds with one stone and take you on the weekend of the reunion."

"Do you know how bad it felt to think that you didn't really think enough of me to do something sweet for me?"

"Yes, I know. And I'm sorry." House pulled him into a hug.

"Good. Next time it happens, I'm going to drag you to whichever destination it is you're trying to avoid  _and_ you won't get any for a month."

"Hmph. As if you could last that long, either."


	24. Unmentioned Diety

Wilson rolled over and nearly shrieked his laughter as House began tickling him, "H-House, stop! Ahaha... my-my lungs hurt!"

"Then say it."

"N-No way... y-you... hahaha... big pervert...!" Wilson managed.

"Have it your way." House smirked, tickling him more determinedly.

"Gah! S-Seriously!" Wilson snorted, "I can't-can't  _breathe_!"

"Say. It."

"I'm... going to kill you- haha!- when you stop!"

"Wrong thing, dear." House said cheerfully, pinning the slighter man beneath him.

"A-Alright! I-I'll... heeheehee...ha... s-say it."

House stopped to allow Wilson to breathe and speak more clearly.

Wilson took a moment to catch his breath and found himself blushing under the diagnostician's piercing blue gaze, "Y-You're..."

"C'mon, James. Next is a spanking instead of tickling."

"Alright already! You're a sex god! There, you happy?"

House smiled, leaning down and kissing him softly, "Quite."

"Mm. Good."

"... Still might spank you anyways. Sounds kinky and kinda hot."

"Gregory House, I will  _chop off your good leg_  if you try that!"


	25. Gayest Thing You've Ever Done

House entered the bedroom after a night of being alone and playing his piano. Wilson was sitting with his back against the headboard, completely engrossed in a book.

Smirking, House walked over to him and leaned down to whisper into his ear, "Ja-ames~"

"Wah!" Wilson jolted, nearly smacking House with his book.

"Hey, careful!" House took a safe step backwards.

"D-Don't  _do_  that, House! You scared the hell out of me!"

The older doctor snorted, "It's your fault for getting so engrossed in that book. What is it?"

Wilson's face flushed and he scrambled to keep the book away from his lover, "N-Nothing!"

His curiosity peaked. House all but jumped on top of the slighter man to wrestle the book out of his grasp.

"G-Greg, stop!"

"Ha!" Victoriously, House grinned and whirled around to read the title, "Are you  _kidding_ me? You're reading a book that was written for prepubescent girls?"

"N-No! C-Cameron told me I should give it a try!" Wilson appeared at his side, reaching for the book that House promptly held above his head.

"But, really, James. Twilight?" House gave him a skeptical look, "You're more in the closet than I thought."

"I am  _not_!"

"Pfft. Fine, whatever. But if you start wearing one of those "Team Edward" or "Team Jacob" shirts I'm going to start calling you 'Flaming Wonderboy: Cancer Doctor Extordinare'."

" _Fuck you_."


	26. Because I Can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Chase is a comic relief character.

Wilson found the package neatly wrapped and lying on top of his desk. He placed his coat on the coat hanger and set his bag down, going over to further inspect the colorfully wrapped box. He noted that there was a card attached and picked it up.

'Roses are red

Violets are blue

Sugar is sweet

And I'll fuck you into the wall.'

With an indignant squeak, Wilson cautiously unwrapped the package. Inside was an item and another note. The item alone already had him blushing. Warily, he picked up the other note and read it.

Two minutes later, a flustered oncologist was bursting through House's office door, "Gregory House, what the hell is wrong with you? How could you send something that provocative to me at work?"

House glanced up from his Game Boy, smiling brightly, "Oh, so you got my package?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Then I expect you to follow the instructions thoroughly."

"You still haven't answered my questions." Wilson sighed.

"Alright, fine. I'm horny as hell. And, I did it because I can." House stated in a tone that one would use when talking about the weather.

"But, anybody could've seen that note on the outside of the package...!"

"Oh, don't worry. I had Chase deliver it, so nobody with a functioning brain saw it."

"You gave it to Chase to deliver?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not even sure if he can read."


	27. A Dream of the Erotic Category

Wilson frowned as he watched a brooding House leave the hospital cafeteria. He had barely said two words during lunch. More surprisingly, he had paid for his own food. Something was seriously wrong with him.

The car ride home was rather awkward. House refused to even look at Wilson and would only grunt when Wilson said something.

By the time House was practically storming down the hallway towards their bedroom, Wilson had had enough.

"House, what the hell is going on?" the oncologist demanded as he followed his lover. He stood in the doorway, hands on his hips.

House glanced at him as he began undressing, "You really wanna know?"

"Yes!"

"... I know you've cheated on me recently."

Wilson's jaw dropped, " _What_? What the hell gave you that idea?"

House turned to face him, glaring heatedly, "Last night in your sleep, you kept moaning "Oh, Elliot. Oh, Detective Stabler!". That's how I found out." (1)

Wilson stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, "S-Seriously?"

"What? What's so damn funny?" House's brow furrowed.

Still chuckling a bit, Wilson walked up to him with a small smile, "Greg, Detective Elliot Stabler is a television show character."

"...Oh. So I just spent the whole day sulking like a toddler for nothing, huh?"

"Yep."

House blinked at him, "So, what happened in the dream?"

" _Greg_!"

"What? I have a right to know what that man did to you in your mind so that when I fall asleep I can dream I'm kicking his ass."

"Like you could."

"Hey, it's my dream. I can do whatever the hell I want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Detective Elliot Stabler is a character from the show "Law and Order: SVU".


	28. Frou Frou

House grunted a greeting to Chase as the Australian stepped out of the elevator and started towards Wilson's office.

The blonde stopped short and took a spot leaning against the wall beside House, "So... what are they doing in there?"

"Looking at your damn wedding album."

"Oh. Wait, didn't Cameron come up here an hour ago?"

House's frown became more pronounced, "Yep."

"... It's just a bunch of pictures of our rather eccentric wedding... what's so appealing about that?"

"Not a damn clue. It's not like weddings are new for Wilson."

Chase chuckled, "He really is the woman in the relationship, isn't he?"

"Yep."

Later that night, House and Wilson were lying in bed, in each other's arms.

Wilson sighed softly, "Their wedding really was beautiful..."

"Wilson, you were  _there_. Why are those stupid pictures making you act even more like a girl?"

"I dunno... I guess they just made me think about how much I love weddings... especially my own." he stated carefully, smiling up at the diagnostician.

House's eyes immediately widened, " _No_."

"What?" Wilson blinked innocently.

"We're  _not_ getting married just so you can have a huge frou-frou wedding."

"Alright. What if we get married because we're crazy in love and the frou-frou wedding is just an added bonus?"

House stared at him incredulously, "... Could you  _be_  any gayer?"

"Probably."

"Fine, we can get married. But if you start making plans to dress in drag and wear a wedding gown, I'm having you admitted to Mayfield."


	29. Ain't it Just Dainty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I even make fun of House himself.

House was greeted by the smell of freshly baked cookies when he arrived at his apartment after a long day of work. He left his bag and jacket in a pile near the floor and made a bee-line for the kitchen.

He found Wilson with his sleeves rolled up, pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven and setting another in it. He was completely wrapped up in what he was doing, House was sure; he always at least called a greeting out to him.

The diagnostician leaned his cane up against the wall and snuck up quietly behind the younger man.

Wilson turned to get something, taking in a sharp, startled breath when he noticed his lover, " _House_!"

The other grinned, "Aw, did I scare you?"

"God, I don't know how a gimp manages to be so damn sneaky!" Wilson sighed, leaning against the counter.

House pointedly looked at the mess on the counter, "... What's the occasion?"

"Ah, well... I have to go to an oncologist conference for a week... and macadamia nut cookies hold up better then macadamia nut pancakes."

"You're making me a shitload of sugary treats because you feel bad for having to do your job? ... Do you know how much I love you?"

Wilson chuckled, "I figured you'd appreciate them."

"But, we won't be able to have sex for a week. ...  _Wait_. You didn't hire me a temporary lover, did you?" House grinned slyly.

"Hmph. Just for that, don't count on getting laid for the next  _month_." Wilson turned his back on the older man.

"Hey! I was joking! _Joking_!"


	30. Brings Out the Gay in Me

With a sigh, Wilson stepped through the front door late at night. He had stayed after hours to finish up on the large pile of paperwork that had been cluttering his desk for days. All he wanted to do now was to just collapse on the bed and sleep.

He stumbled down the hallway, eyelids heavy. He let his coat and bag drop just inside the bedroom door, careful that they were out of the walk area in case House decided to get up in the middle of the night.

His fingers fumbled at his shirt buttons. He was about ready to just give up and sleep in his clothes when he felt his lover's warm hands gently brushing his own away. Wilson stood there, eyes closed and already half-asleep as House helped him undress down to his boxers.

Strong hands led him to the bed and helped him crawl in before pulling the blanket up over the slighter man.

The oncologist didn't even bother stifling a loud yawn. "House..." he muttered.

"Just shut up and go to sleep." House grumbled, leaning over and capturing the slighter man's lips in a gentle kiss.

A small smile graced Wilson's face as he returned the kiss, then settled back. He was asleep within moments.

Still grumbling to himself, House brushed a bit of hair out of Wilson's eyes, "... He brings out the gay in me..."


	31. I Feel Better Now

It was a charity event. Normal people were gambling, talking, laughing, and just having a good time all around. House, of course, never fell under that particular category.

It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn't help getting jealous watching just how easily Wilson was able to hold friendly conversation with others. Not only that, but he was constantly flashing that charming, boyish smile of his. That smile was for House and House only, as far as the diagnostician was concerned. Not even Wilson's  _family_ should have had the privledge of seeing it.

And then he saw it. A well-known surgeon from Princeton General had sidled up beside Wilson, whispering something into his ear and rubbing a hand against his ass.

House all but blacked out for a few seconds. When he regained conscious thoughts, he realized that the surgeon and Wilson were still close, though it was clear that Wilson was trying to get away from him.

Wilson put a hand on his shoulder, pushing at it. This only seemed to encourage the taller man, as he took this as an invitation to yank the oncologist into a sloppy kiss.

House didn't black out from anger this time. He stormed over to the two men, gripping his cane until his knuckles were white. He tapped the surgeon on the shoulder.

"Mmm...?" the man let go of Wilson and turned around, only to go flying back onto his ass when House's fist connected with his jaw.

"House!" Wilson's eyes widened in surprise.

"He was molesting my Jimmy." the diagnostician shrugged, turning and walking away, suddenly getting the urge to enjoy the evening.


	32. Return of PAGS

House had just stepped into the clinic area when he saw Wilson walking out of an exam room, face flushed. House watched him, confused. Usually Wilson was able to be professional at the hospital. What was wrong with this patient that had made him lose face?

That's when he took notice of just  _who_  the patient was. It was that no-good, ass-grabbing, boyfriend-molesting surgeon from the charity event a few weeks ago! And to make matters worse, he had an extremely satisfied smirk on his face!

Not wanting to waste any time, House stormed over to Wilson, "What the hell happened in there?"

Wilson's eyes widened a bit in horror. He had been hoping that House would never find out about this. "I-I was just examining a patient..."

"That's the bastard that molested you less than a month ago, Wilson!" House growled, shooting a heated glare at the surgeon, who simply turned his smirk in the diagnostician's direction. "What the hell happened in there?"

The surgeon answered before Wilson had a chance to even blink, "Nothing but a routine prostate exam, Doctor House."

House stared at him, letting this information sink in. "A... prostate exam. ... You made him shove his finger up your ass, you sick bastard?"

"House, quiet down!" Wilson pleaded, his face turning an extremely dark shade of red when he realized that the other patients in the waiting room were beginning to stare.

The surgeon's smirk widened, "He seemed to enjoy it. He made sure I did."

_WHAM_!

The surgeon keeled over, clutching his stomach as the wind was knocked out of him. In his rage, House had taken his cane in both hands and swung at the surgeon's stomach, connecting the two forcefully.

" _House_!" Wilson nearly shrieked.

House grabbed Wilson's arm and led him towards the elevator, "Stop screaming like a little girl, James."

"Wh-Where are we going?"

"Well, you were defiled by that guy. I have to make it right by having a quickie with you in your office."

"What the _hell_ kind of logic is _that_?"


	33. Fanfiction

-  _Clang_!  _Clang_!  _Clang_!

Their swords kept hitting each other as the duel raged on, both men standing their ground, glaring at the other.

The 'lady' stood nearby, hands clasped at his chest in an anxious gesture.

The tall, dashing Sir House smirked in victory as he sent his opponent's sword flying to the side. He held his blade at the man's throat, "Leave me and the 'lady'. If I ever lay eyes upon you again, I will make sure that you breathe your last breath."

With a final longing look at the 'lady', the rival turned and left, head hanged in defeat.

The 'lady' hurried to Sir House's side, his dark blue dress fluttering in the wind, "Sir House, you were magnificent! As promised, I will take your hand in marriage. You will have me as often as you like."

"My lady, you should not offer such things... You will not sleep much." Sir House gave the 'lady' a charming smile, lifting him onto his golden steed before climbing on behind him.

The two rode off into the sunset. -

Wilson stared at the piece of paper in his hand, speechless.

House leaned back in his chair, "Well?"

"H-House... what... what the hell  _is_  this?" Wilson turned his wide-eyed gaze to the older man.

"I got the sudden urge to do some creative writing is all."

"And  _this_  is what you came up with?"

"Well, I didn't feel like writing a really long smut-filled short story. Only lonely people on the internet do that sort of thing."


	34. Depression

House had begun to notice that Wilson was slipping into a bit of a depression. He didn't offer his small smile whenever House came into his office. He didn't play that annoying music of his whenever he was cooking. He hadn't made his macadamia nut pancakes for days. And worst of all, he hadn't been in the mood.

House decided to use his years of medical training and diagnostic abilities to figure this out.

"Alright team, new case." House announced, entering the office.

The three looked up from their spots at the table.

"Uh, House, there  _aren't_  any new cases." Cameron stated.

"Well, I just created one. So shut up and do your jobs." He grabbed an Expo marker and stood at his whiteboard, "Patient presents with signs of depression and a lowered sex drive. Go."

They stared.

"... Are you serious? It just sounds like a case of 'The Blues'." Foreman scoffed.

House glared, "Alright. Now let me get the opinion of somebody who  _didn't_  steal cars in their adolescent years."

"House... is this about Wilson?"

"Ah, that would be correct. Which means we can't run any tests on him, so it's all up to your combined vast amounts of knowledge." the diagnostician jeered.

Cameron frowned, "Have you tried just asking him what's wrong?"

"And risk revealing that I care? Never."

"I'm not going to waste my time on this pointlessness..." Foreman sighed, turning back to the paperwork before him.

"Hey, black one."

Foreman looked up with a scowl.

"If you don't participate, the next thing I put on this board will be a very elaborate picture of me and Wilson having sex."

"That's disgusting, House!" Cameron exclaimed as both she and Foreman got to their feet and left.

House glared after them, then turned to Chase, "Well?"

"... Lupus?"

"Just... go do your clinic hours like a good little Aussie."

"I hear you've been worried about me." Wilson stated, leaning in the doorway to House's office.

"Depends on your definition of the word." House replied, throwing his over-sized tennis ball at the wall and catching it.

With a sigh, Wilson turned to leave.

"I have."

The oncologist paused, and looked back at the older man, "... Really?"

"Duh. You haven't been yourself lately. ... If you  _really_  wanted to, you could talk to me about it, you know."

Wilson walked up to his desk, taking a seat and slumping back, "It's just the world of oncology getting to me again."

House looked at him with mock surprise, "James Wilson, Boy Wonder Oncologist, is letting  _cancer_  depress him? How  _dare_  you be human."

Wilson gave a slight chuckle, "I know, I know... But I knew what I was getting into when I chose the specialty."

"That doesn't mean shit, Wilson. Nobody could've prepared themselves for what you deal with everyday."

"Thanks, House."

The two looked into each others eyes in silence for a moment before House got to his feet, "Well, now that that's solved, let's go home."

"Sure thing..." Wilson trailed off as he stood, having spotted something in the other room, "Um... House?"

"Yes?"

"Why... the  _hell_  is there a picture of us having sex on your whiteboard?"

"It's punishment for my team's unwillingness to do their jobs." House said innocently.

"So you had to drag  _me_  into it? Do you know how embarrassing-" Wilson was cut off by House kissing him.

When he pulled away, House gave him a rare, genuine smile, "Glad you're back to normal."


	35. Do Something Romantic

"You...  _what_?" House blinked in surprise.

Wilson's face turned a bright shade of red, "I want you to take me out on a real date."

"But  _why_?"

"You never do anything romantic, so what's wrong with wanting a real date every now and then?"

"... Ah. So then, I suppose monster trucks and cotton candy are out of the question."

"Your damn right. I want a  _real_  date, not something we would've done together back when we were 'just friends'." Wilson crossed his arms.

House sighed, "Alright, fine. We'll go out on a real date. But on one condition."

"... I'm sure I'll regret asking, but what's the condition?"

"You don't make fun of me when I do something lame or extremely gay."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Loudly proclaiming my love for you in the middle of a crowded restaurant." House gave him an innocent smile. If he had to endure an actual date, it was only fair that Wilson would have to endure his antics.

Wilson frowned. Then he smiled and said in a sickeningly sweet tone, "If you do anything along those lines, you're sleeping on the couch for the next two years."

House sighed heavily, "Fine. I'll only do gay things like hire a violinist or hold your hand or something."

"Good."

"However, just for that, after the date we're trying something new during sex."

"H-House...!"

"Hey, you want a real date, I want to see what a Wilson-sundae tastes like."


	36. Wilson Sundae

The date itself wasn't nearly as awkward as House had anticipated. He figured it would be bad, like that date he had with Cameron. Then again, that  _was_ the last official date he had gone on, so that was a poor example.

He kept himself in check the entire evening, knowing it would make Wilson happy. If Wilson were happy about the date, there was no way he could say 'no' to what House had planned later.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the two returned the dark apartment. Just as Wilson was slipping his coat off, House stepped up behind him and began kissing his neck.

"Nngh! H-House..." the younger man moaned softly.

"Now that dinner's over with... it's time for dessert, wouldn't you say?" House whispered huskily, kneading at Wilson's hips.

"Ah..! Y-Yes, whatever..."

House smirked, then gave Wilson a light smack on the ass, "Go to the bedroom. I'll be there in just a few minutes."

Shuddering slightly, Wilson stumbled through the darkness and into their room. He settled on the edge of the bed, nibbling his bottom lip in anticipation. He had known House for a good number of years and yet the man still managed to surprise him. He had absolutely no idea what to expect.

Finally, House limped into the room. In his free hand was a grocery bag. With an eager smirk, he set the bag on the bed nearby, "Go ahead, get undressed and lay back; make yourself more comfortable. Keep in mind that you'll be in which ever position you choose for a while, though."

A tremor ran throughout the younger man's body as he scooted back, slowly peeling off his clothes along the way. He settled on his back once he was completely naked, hands resting beneath his head as he stared at the taller man, his heart racing.

House watched his lover with interest, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable as each inch of Wilson's creamy flesh was revealed. He took in a calming breath after the slighter man laid back, gaining more control of himself.

House set aside his cane and reached for the bag. He pulled out a bottle of chocolate syrup, grinning, "It's not going to be a complete sundae, but I figure chocolate-drabbled Wilson will be just as yummy."

Wilson's cheeks burned brightly, "Y-You're not really going to... do what I think you are, are you?"

"Shut up and you'll find out." House punctuated his light-hearted command by popping open the bottle lid. He crawled onto the bed and hovered over his lover, taking in the sight before him, "You're so damn fuckable, James, you know that?"

"So I've heard." he replied with a shaky voice.

"Oh, calm down. It's not gonna hurt you."

Wilson let out a soft gasp as the syrup began to dribble onto his body. House trailed in up his lover's left thigh, bringing it to an end at his happy trail. He trailed more syrup up his other thigh, bringing it to meet the other line. He set the bottle aside for the moment and settled himself between Wilson's opened legs.

Slowly, his hot tongue followed the trail of syrup up Wilson's thigh. House took great care in making sure that not even a little bit of syrup was left behind. Wilson's breath hitched, pleasure shooting through his body, as House's tongue met his happy trail before following the line of syrup down his other thigh.

Once he was finished, House's cheek nuzzled Wilson's thigh as he picked up the bottle of syrup and squeezed some of the thick liquid onto Wilson's growing member. Without hesitation, House took the length into his mouth and began licking and sucking it.

"O-Oh... god, House... where the hell did you... get the idea for this?" Wilson whimpered between pants.

"You enjoying it?" House asked, his voice muffled by the flesh in his mouth.

" _God_  yes."

"Then don't worry about where the idea came from and just relax." House's teeth grazed over the sensitive flesh, eliciting a moan from Wilson's lips.

House's tongue ran along the member, running roughly over the tip of Wilson's penis. He slipped inside the slit, and Wilson bucked.

A few more minutes of House's talented tongue and hot mouth worshipping his lower body was all it took for Wilson to come, his entire body trembling in the aftershocks.

Once House had milked Wilson for all he was worth, he sat up, grinning down at his sweat-covered lover, "Well?"

"W-We should  _definitely_  do this more often."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was informed that not everybody knows what a 'happy trail' is. It refers to the trail of hair from man's lower abdomen leading to his pubic hair.


	37. Just a Sprinkle of Domestic

Wilson walked through the door late one night, having had piles of paperwork to catch up on. A succulent smell was wafting in the air.

House was making dinner, as was the new 'usual' in their home. He still didn't have his medical license back and cooking had offered him an outlet of sorts, so of course Wilson didn't really mind. It was a nice little change.

A lot of things had changed about House. Sure he was still the narcissistic, loveable bastard that he always was, but... he'd lost some of his edge. The bright light that made him the ruthless, medical genius that he was had dimmed a bit. He no longer obsessed about the diseases anymore, which was good.

But at the same time, it felt so very wrong.

"I'm home." he called out as he removed his tan coat and shoes.

"... Don't expect me to come running with your slippers and a kiss while proclaiming 'Welcome home, honey!'. I'll do other gay stuff for you, but that's just a bit too flaming for my taste." House stated from his spot at the stove, not looking up from his latest creation.

This made the younger man chuckle, partially in relief. He still thanked every God in existance that House hadn't lost his own personal brand of humor. "That's alright. Doing chores is enough, thanks."

Wilson walked into the kitchen, right up to House. After a few moments, House finally turned to him and pressed a kiss to his lips before returning to the steaming pot.

Smiling, Wilson turned to go change into more comfortable clothes.

Just as he walked past the doorway, House sighed. "Hey."

Wilson turned around, looking at him, "Yeah?"

Still stirring the ingredients on the stove, House spoke quietly. "... Welcome home, James."

"Thanks, Greg."


	38. Knock First

A smirk graced the diagnostician's face as he shut the front door of the apartment behind him, the sounds of soft moans and whimpers reaching his ears. He took his time removing his shoes and jacket, careful to set down his bag with little noise. It wouldn't do for Wilson to know he was home just yet.

He left his cane near the front door and limped laboredly down the short hallway, stopping at the closed bedroom door. The moans and whimpers were louder and a slightly musky scent had entered the air.

Still smirking, House grabbed the door knob and quietly opened the door all the way.

To his unsurprised delight, Wilson was laying on his back on their bed. His pants were open, his boxers pushed down to release his erection. A hand gripped the length, pumping vigorously. His brow glistened with sweat as the light from the lamp beamed upon him and his chest heaved in short, heavy breaths. He was close... so close...

"A-Ahhh!" White streams splattered his torso, and he fell limp.

" _God_ , Wilson, could you be any sexier?" House growled softly.

Wilson jerked into a sitting position, staring like a deer caught in the headlights. His face became immediately red as he scrambled to cover himself up, yanking his boxers and pants over his now-flaccid member. He quickly removed his shirt and threw it at their clothes hamper, replacing it with a blanket around his shoulders.

"I... I thought you were going to be busy with that patient of yours all night."

"Nope. Left the team there to deal with his bitching and moaning. Good thing, too. Otherwise I would've missed out on this." He made his way over to the bed, sitting down next to Wilson. "I never pegged you for the masturbation type, Jimmy boy."

"I-I don't do it often! You weren't supposed to see... Why the hell didn't you knock?!" Dark eyes glared accusingly into piercing blue ones.

"And risk missing the show? No way. Besides, there's no more privacy between us. Hell, there hasn't been any since the day we met."

"I swear, if you don't start knocking when there's a closed door, you'll find yourself getting very reacquainted with your hand."

"Big deal. I won't mind whacking off in bed while you're right next to me."

" _House_!"

He blinked, then grinned, "What? Do you still honestly think that I have any shame?"


	39. Let's Stay in Today

House awoke to the wonderful smell of breakfast being made. Unwilling to get out of bed after the previous night left him a bit sore and thoroughly sated, he sniffed a bit more, trying to guess at what was cooking.

Of course, there was macadamia nut pancakes. Oh, bacon and toast. Coffee as well. Also eggs, most likely scrambled.

With a soft groan, he pushed himself into a seated position. Sore or not, he was hungry now, dammit.

He slid out from beneath the rumpled sheet and grabbed his trusty bottle of Vicodin, popping one into his mouth and dry swallowing while he searched the room for clothing. Finally, he found a pair of boxers and slid them on, followed by a pair of gray sweat pants.

Once his normal morning bathroom ritual was complete, he grabbed his cane and limped down the hallway. He turned the corner to enter the kitchen and froze, a brow raising with interest at the sight before him.

As he had already guessed, breakfast was almost ready. However, he wasn't really interested in it any longer. He was more interested in the chef, who was wearing next to nothing.

Wilson stood with his back to House, completely unaware of his presence. For whatever reason, the oncologist appeared to only be wearing a wrinkled blue work shirt, most likely the one he wore just the other day. The shirt reached down a bit beyond his ass, making it almost impossible to tell whether there was anything else in between it and his creamy flesh.

Unable to suppress a groan of appreciation, House started towards Wilson. The slighter man turned around when he heard the deep, hungry noise coming from the other man's throat.

"Oh, there you are. I thought you were going to sleep all day." He smiled warmly before turning back to the stove.

"I should, since you rode me so hard last night." House leaned against the counter, closer surveying Wilson's clothes. Damn, he still couldn't tell what else he had on.

"Ha, you make it sound like it was so painful for you. You just had to lay there.  _I_  was the one impaling myself on you. My thighs are sore."

"Aw, I'm sorry, Jimmy."

"Shut up."

"...Want me to kiss it better?" the diagnostician smirked.

" _No_!"

"Mm, fine then." House grabbed the front of Wilson's shirt and yanked him close, their lips crashing together in a bruising, passionate kiss. Once he was sure Wilson was going to remain there, his hands wrapped around the oncologist's waist, creeping down until both of his hands were grabbing an ass cheek.

Wilson let out a muffled squeak, bracing his hands on House's arms.

He slid his hands beneath the shirt fabric and smirked into the kiss. So, Wonderboy had decided to go commando today, huh? The day couldn't get much better. Unless...

House pulled away, leaving them gasping for breath. "Wilson?"

"Y-Yeah, House?"

"Don't put on any more clothes today."

"... Why?"

"Because then I'll keep having to take them off all throughout the day whenever I feel like having sex with you."

"House, if you want to stay in today and just have sex and cuddle and watch the television, just say so."

"Fine. James, I want to stay inside today, not once going out for any reason. I plan to fuck you against the wall, on the couch, the chair, in the shower, and anywhere else I damn well please. Then we'll cuddle and watch some porn or something."

Wilson couldn't help but grin and blush, "Okay then."

As the younger man started kissing House's jaw, House cheerfully added, "Oh, and if you try to put on any clothes and/or leave today, I'll give you a spanking and tie you to the bed."

"Now, Greg,  _why_  would you think that I wouldn't want you to spank me and tie me to the bed anyways?"

"Hmph, and you call  _me_  the only pervert of the relationship."

"Hey, I'm allowed to be horny too, you know."


	40. Happy Holidays, Wilson

"Did you people not learn from last year?" House groused as he entered the office.

"What were we supposed to learn this time?" Thirteen asked boredly.

"To not put up all that gay Christmas shit around  _my_  office that I graciously  _let_  you all use."

"We didn't do that. Wilson did."

"Right. He's Jewish, you know."

"So? Maybe he wanted to do something nice for his Christmas celebrating lov--er, friend."

\-----

"What's with the Christmas crap in my office?" House demanded, bursting into Wilson's office.

"Can't you even knock?" The younger man sighed, looking up from his paperwork.

"Never mind that. Answer my question."

"I thought that you could use some Christmas cheer."

House snorted, sitting down in the chair in front of the desk.

"I'm serious. You're always such a sour puss. It wouldn't kill you to be nice and jolly and all that around this time of year, at least."

"... Do you  _know_  who you're talking to?"

"Gregory House: Professional Egotistical Asshole?"

"Damn right. As if a few decorations would make me change my ways."

"I could always read you  _'A Christmas Carol'_."

"Oh,  _god_ , no."

"Then do at least one thing nice or Christmas-y. And don't assume that somebody's going to repay you."

"... Fine."

\-----

It was late when the oncologist finally got home. He'd had an emergency with one of his patients and spent the better part of his afternoon and evening trying to help them anyway he could. In the end, all he could do was make them as comfortable as possible and surround them with friends and family.

He wanted nothing more than to relax and take his mind off of things.

He opened the front door and froze in place. This couldn't be the right apartment, could it?

Near the piano stood a large, beautifully decorated Christmas tree, complete with lights, ornaments, garner, and a gold-colored star on top. There was decorations all over the apartment, making it seem almost like a dream. And right in the middle of the coffee table sat a menorah complete with unlit shamus candles.

House poked his head out from the kitchen, "There you are. So, how do you like it?"

"It's... beautiful." Wilson said softly, still in awe at the sight before him.

"Yeah, well... I figured you'd like it." He turned back into the kitchen.

Wilson took off his shoes and left his briefcase and coat by the door in favor of going into the kitchen. House was standing at the stove, his back to Wilson.

"... House?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you making... livivot?" Wilson asked, incredulous.

"Yeah. You seemed like you wanted a real holiday experience, so I figured why not go all out?"

Wilson strode over too him, took his scruffy face in his hands, and pulled him down for a deep kiss.

Once they pulled away, House was a bit stunned and breathless, "What was that for?"

"For being an amazing boyfriend."

"Yeah, well... It was the only way to shut you up." House mumbled, turning back to the stove, "... Happy holidays, Wilson."

If Wilson didn't know any better, he would have sworn that House's face had turned just a fraction red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been told 'livivot' is also known as 'latkes' or just 'potato pancakes'.


	41. It's Kinda Hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PAGS (Perverted Ass Grabbing Surgeon) returns!

It was the annual holiday party at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, where staff and patients alike attended. There were presents, beautiful decorations, soft music varying between the different December holidays, a large spread of food, and the typical Christmas spirit.

House sat in a chair, watching everybody else with a bored expression. He wanted nothing more than to be at home, but a certain oncologist had threatened to quit making his famous macadamia nut pancakes. After a few moments of glaring at one another, the older man had relented. Those pancakes were like oxygen to him.

His eyes scanned the crowd for Wilson. When he finally found him, every fiber of his being lit up in pure anger.

Standing next to Wilson was none other than the surgeon who had caused them problems in the past.

House surveyed the situation for a moment, since Wilson seemed to get mad rather than grateful whenever House acted without knowing the entire story. Wilson seemed to be nervous, constantly looking around for somebody to help. The surgeon had an arm around the slighter man's waist, and it was drifting down... down...

Wilson's small yelp and deep blush were all House needed to justify kicking the man's ass.

He prided himself in moving faster than most disabled people when they were angry. Scratch that. House wasn't angry. He was  _pissed off_. How many times would he have to beat this guy with his cane before he learned?!

When the surgeon saw him coming, a bit of color drained from his face. He hadn't realized that the larger doctor was attending the event as well.

House got just within reach, rearing back his cane and preparing to strike. The surgeon started to make a run for it, but not before the hard wood came crashing down on his hand.

He howled, holding his hand close to his body, "Y-You son of a bitch...!"

"Next time you bother him, I won't just break your hand. I'll break your  _dick_."

After a few more moments of cursing and yelling, the surgeon retreated.

Wilson looked at House with an indeterminable expression.

House sighed, "Look, I just can't stand him--" Before he could continue, he found the younger man pressing up against him, giving him a searing kiss.

"W.. What was that for?" House asked once they broke apart.

Wilson's cheeks lit up a bit as he looked away, "I, uh, never told you... but... it's kinda hot when you defend me."

"... When we get home, we're not leaving the bed for the next twenty-four hours."

"House, we have to work...!"

"I'll call Cuddy in the morning and tell her that we're too busy having awesome sex."

"You wouldn't!"

"Do you even know me?"


	42. For a Name

House leaned back in his chair, a heavy weight on his head and heart. He was physically and mentally exhausted; part of him wanted nothing but sleep and the other part of him wanted to obsess over what had gone wrong.

After all, it had been a very bad fight.

It started about a week ago, when Wilson brought up a conference he needed to attend. House half-listened, idly playing his piano. What truly caught his attention was the mention of Wilson having to go to Princeton Plainsboro General to work as the temporary head of oncology while the regular oncologist was out sick.

The piano made a horrific noise as House's hands all-but slammed down on the keys. He froze, fighting to keep the anger from boiling up within him.

"Absolutely not." he said stiffly, closing the piano's keyboard.

"What do you mean 'absolutely not'? I wasn't asking for your  _permission_ , I was telling you that I have to go because of  _my job_. I thought it would be appreciated if I let you know I wouldn't be able to come running every time you page me over something stupid for three days." Wilson huffed, picking up a magazine and fingering through it.

"You're not going there, James." House turned around, his face and expression set in stone.

"What the hell are you talking about? I  _have_  to."

"That surgeon works there. No way in hell am I letting you go without me there to protect you."

"So, suddenly you own me?" Wilson gave him an annoyed glance.

"Not so suddenly, Wilson." House said lightly, getting up and making his way over to the couch. He sat down, putting an arm around the slighter man, "I'll talk to Cuddy, make her get somebody else."

"No need. I want to go." Wilson stated absently, not taking his eyes off of his magazine.

"Why the hell do you want to go to the workplace of a man who's molested you upon several occasions?"

"He didn't 'molest' me, House. God, you make me sound like I'm a weak little victim. I want to go because it'll be a nice change of scenery."

"You  _are_ a weak little victim, Jimmy. You're too nice to know when to tell the guy to shove off. And what's wrong with the scenery at PPTH? You'll still be seeing balding, dying people, no surprise."

"Yes, well, maybe I think it'll be nice to make it through my entire schedule without a certain diagnostician pushing his way into my office or the exam room to complain to me about idle stuff."

"Oh, please. You love hearing me complain about anything, so long as you can hear my sexy voice."

Wilson sighed, setting the magazine in his lap and turning to look at the older man, "House, I'm serious. A little time apart in the workplace won't kill us."

"You make it sound as though you never get any work done because of me."

"It's not that, House. I really just want a few... normal days. Normal for other people, not us. You know?"

"If I bug you so much James, then just say so."

"You don't 'bug' me, Greg! I just want a little break. You can't tell me that nobody on your team ever takes a break or vacation or something."

"They do, they need to. Otherwise we'd end up killing each other."

"See? It's the same thing--"

"No, it's not. They don't live with me. They don't tell me they love me in that extremely gay voice every morning before leaving for work. They didn't commit to me, and I haven't committed to any of them."

Wilson frowned as he felt House pulling away, "Greg... I don't want to move out! I'm just going to work at another hospital for three, four days tops! We'll still see each other in the mornings and at night."

"Right. First it's the work place, then before you know it, you'll 'accidentally' fall asleep on the couch all the time just so you can avoid telling me you're tired of having sex with a cripple."

"House, you're not being fair! I would never do that! Where is this even coming from??"

"If you want out, then get out. I can't stop you." House groused, getting up and heading for the door.

"Wait, where are you going?!"

"Out. I suddenly need a break from you."

One argument led to another and by the end of the week, Wilson had packed a few bags and left the apartment.

House had sat in his chair, staring at the door for hours, as though he couldn't believe that Wilson was actually gone. Finally, he broke down, crying the first real tears he could remember crying since his accident.

A month passed and House and Wilson had hardly exchanged a single word. Mostly awkward silences out on the balcony, when both were too stubborn to just leave right away, and the obvious ignoring of the other when they passed in the hallway exchanged between the two.

They continued to work to the best of their abilities; it seemed that that was all they were capable of anymore. They both moped alone in their offices and worked late, if only to avoid the inevitable loneliness of returning to an empty home. Upon several occasions, one or the other would end up spending the night in their office.

Another month passed.

House frowned when he heard a familiar, sweet noise: Wilson laughing. It felt like an eternity since he'd heard the wonderful sound emanating from his mouth. He glanced out of his balcony door and saw Wilson standing on his side, cheerfully talking to and laughing with an unknown person on his cell phone.

Every fiber of House's being began obsessing over who had brought Wilson out of his slump.

He followed the younger doctor around, straining to listen to his conversations, only catching small portions of sentences. Apparently, he was talking to somebody whose nickname was "Ichy" -- at least, House  _hoped_ that was his nickname -- and they were planning another date soon.

House froze, a deep frowning marring his face. 'Another date'? As in, they had gone out previously?

\-----

The diagnostician could have spewed fire when he found out just who this "Ichy" guy was. He had followed Wilson from the hospital to a small Italian restaurant a few blocks away. There, House witnessed Wilson greeting, and  _kissing_ , the all-too-familiar surgeon from PPGH.

In two seconds flat, he had made his way into the restaurant and up to their table, seething.

"H-House, what the hell are you doing here?!" Wilson demanded.

"What are  _you_  doing here with  _him_?" He was barely able to keep his temper in check.

"Look, Doctor House, James has told me that you broke up, and I was simply trying to be a good friend and comfort him." the blonde stated, somewhat meekly.

" _You're_  'Ichy'?"

"Yes. Well, technically, that's my nickname. I'm Doctor Ichabod Tosto. I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced." He stood, holding his hand out to House.

"Put that away before I rip it off." House said shortly, turning his heated gaze back to Wilson.

"House, you broke up with me! I'm allowed to date whoever I want, anyways!"

"Not this dirt bag. Anybody but him."

"House, you  _don't own me_!"

"Like hell I don't." House growled, taking Wilson by the arm, "Say goodbye to your little friend, James. You won't be seeing him for a very long time."

"H-House, wait!" Wilson weakly protested as he was hauled to his feet and dragged out of the restaurant.

Once they were halfway down the street, Wilson yanked his arm out of the older man's grip, "Just what in the  _hell_  is wrong with you?? I'm not property that you can throw away and take back any time you damn well please, House!"

House turned to look at the oncologist, "No, you're not. God, James, are you that stupid? Haven't you ever heard the whole 'he's mine, I'm his' of relationships?"

"Wh... What?"

"I never meant that you were my  _property_ , you dumb shit! I meant that you're mine and I'm yours!" House exclaimed, exasperated.

"... R-Really?"

"Duh!"

"Oh. Well... um... m-my mistake?"

"Damn right, your mistake. When I'm through with you, you won't be able to sit down for a  _year_." House growled, pulling Wilson up against him.

Brown orbs stared into icy blue ones for several uncalculated minutes.

Finally, Wilson smiled, wrapping his arms around the diagnostician, "... I'm sorry, but you're at fault too."

"How do you figure?" House grumbled, putting an arm around him.

"You let your big fat ego cloud the fact that I can fight unwanted attention off."

"Hmph. Kicking somebody in the crotch and running away is such a girly move, James."

"Yes, but an effective one, Greg." Wilson chuckled, kissing the tip of his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I decided to name PAGS "Ichabod 'Itchy' Tosto". I cannot yet justify this in my mind.


	43. Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight mentions of House/Kutner (???).

The sky was dark by the time the oncologist got home. As he stubbed his toe, he silently cursed his having to stay late at work. That damn paperwork seemed to always pile up when it was most inconvenient.

Forgetting about his throbbing toe for the moment, Wilson wondered whether or not House's most recent session with Doctor Nolan went well. Apparently they had been starting to deal with some rather heavy stuff, to House's dismay.

He walked into the kitchen of the condo, setting his briefcase and jacket on the island. With a sigh, he grabbed a beer from the refridgerator, wincing as the bright light filled the pitch black room.

As he headed to the couch, he had to fight back the part of him that wanted to go wake House up and ask about therapy. The diagnostician was already uncomfortable enough discussing the goings-on in the private sessions; Wilson could only imagine how pissed he'd be if he was woken up in the middle of the night to talk.

Instead, he entertained himself with a few things recorded on their DVR (1). He got about halfway through his beer before he willed his body to lay down and curl up, falling into an unusually deep sleep.

\-----

Wilson had heard the alarm go off in his bedroom; he was certain of it. He also knew that he didn't care to be bothered by it. He groaned, rolling over and burying his head further into the couch.

After about ten minutes, House begrudingly got out of his bed and stumbled across the hallway to Wilson's. The aforementioned didn't even jolt when the beeping ended with a loud crash.

"Wilson! Where the hell are you?" House grumbled, walking into the living room.

A single hand rose in the air behind the couch, waving momentarily.

Frowning, House leaned over the back of the couch, "Damn, you look like shit. What time did you get in?"

"... Thanks. And after midnight." Wilson's voice was slightly muffled by a cushion.

"We're gonna be late, y'know. Takes you at least half an hour to dry your girly hair." House reached down, shaking his friend a bit more roughly than need be.

"Don't wanna go." The younger man groaned, batting at House's hand.

"Well, too bad. You're my ride. Now up and at 'em." The taller man said cheerfully, heading to the refridgerator.

"Fine, fine. I'm up." Slowly, the brunette pushed himself into a seated position.

"Good job, Jimmy."

Grumbling under his breath, Wilson got up and started for his room.

"Oh, and by the way, you need to buy a new alarm clock."

"... What happened to the old one?"

"It was involved in an unfortunate incident with the wall."

"You've could've just turned it 'off', you know..!"

"Yes, but where's the fun in that?"

\-----

Lunchtime rolled around and Wilson was still exhausted. It didn't help that House had burst into his office, speaking loudly about a rumor involving two female nurses and a sex scandal.

It was odd, however, that House had brought them both something from the cafeteria.

Wilson suspiciously eyed the packaged salad, ".. What's the occassion?"

"I can't just feel like buying lunch for you?"

"It's definitely not...  _normal_."

"Well, I figured what the hell. Consider it a Hanukkah present." House shrugged, leaning back on the couch, his own lunch in his lap.

"No ulterior motives?"

"Now, James Evan Wilson, does that  _really_  sound like me?"

"Oh, not at all." Wilson rolled his eyes, going to sit beside the older man.

They sat and ate in silence for a few minutes before House spoke up.

"Besides.. I figured you'd wanna ask about my visit with Doctor Nolan."

"Uh. I guess?" Wilson took a bite, looking thoughtful, "Why, do you wanna talk about it?"

House snorted, "Hell no. But.. he said I should, since I talk to you about the other sessions."

"Okay. So, uh..?"

"We talked about Kutner."

Oh?"

"Yep. Nolan thinks a part of me feels responsible for his suicide."

".. Why does he think that?"

House sighed, "I'll tell you, but you'd better swear that you won't freak out or over-analyze or whatever."

"I'll try." Wilson shrugged, offering the man a half-smile.

"Close enough." The diagnostician nodded once, staring at his food as though it could give him the courage to reveal his secret, "Not long before.. Kutner offed himself, we kinda.. got involved."

The slighter man coughed, having suddenly swallowed his half-chewed bite. He took a few moments to catch his breath before managing, "Wh- _What_?"

"We were involved."

"Like.. romantically?"

"Sort of."

"S-So.. what does this have to do with feeling guilty?"

"We had a fight a few days before he did it." He replied quietly, "About.. you."

"M-Me?" Wilson blinked, taken aback.

"He thought I was spending too much time with you instead of him." House shrugged.

"And you think he killed himself because you had a fight..?"

The older man shifted slightly, shrugging. If one didn't know any better, they would think he was embarassed.

"..House..?" Wilson scooted closer.

"Well, it didn't  _help_  the situation." House groused.

The slighter man sighed, laying his head on the larger man's shoulder, "Greg, it wasn't your fault.."

".. Sure it wasn't."

The rest of their lunchbreak was spent in silence, House thinking about Kutner, Wilson thinking about how to help his friend feel better.

\-----

Wilson had made sure to get home earlier than House, so he could set up the diagnostician's room with a romantic flair. He'd learned from experience that, when dealing with House, when in doubt, plan for sex. He learned the hard way to plan ahead; his body still ached at the memory of what House had insisted upon the last time.

An hour would pass before House finally stalked through the front door. He was only able to stall for so long before he knew Wilson would start worrying. Truthfully, House didn't want to deal with the impending pity Wilson would thrust upon him after hearing about his heartache.

He started down the main hall, heading for the kitchen. He wanted nothing more than to spend some time with his good friend, bourbon.

The smell of lit candles caught his attention, causing him to change his course to the bedroom.

Upon entering the dimly lit room, his nose was met with the soft scent of vanilla candles that were spread about the room. It was also hard to miss the blood red silk sheets that had replaced House's usual blue cotton ones.

As arms wrapped around House's chest, he nearly jumped.

Wilson laughed softly, pressing up against him, "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

".. I'm more startled by all of this extremely gay shit in my bedroom, thanks."

"Oh, shut up. You know you like it; you're just too stubborn to admit it."

"Hmph." Grumbling, House turned around to face Wilson.

The oncologist gave him a quick kiss before pulling back, smiling beautifically, "Why don't we move this to the bed?"

As he allowed the slighter man to lead him further into the room, House began undoing his shirt buttons, "Not that I'm complaing, but.. what's the occassion?"

"Well.. I figured it might help you feel better, at least. And we don't do enough romantic stuff together, anyways."

".. You're such a stereotypical gay guy, sometimes."

"It's not 'gay' to want some romance in your relationship, Greg." Wilson rolled his eyes, falling back onto the bed, pulling House on top of him.

"Says the man who blow-dries his hair every morning and uses a  _coaster_  for beer."

"Hey, I just bought that table! I don't want rings on it just yet..!"

House rolled his eyes, silencing the man with a deep kiss. Once he pulled away, he gave Wilson a slight smirk, "Why don't you just shut up for now? There's a bunch of other more..  _useful_  things you can use that mouth of yours for."

"I'm  _not_  doing that, House..! This is supposed to be a romantic night, not one of your dirty sex-capades!" Wilson insisted.

House sighed, "Fine. .. Tomorrow?"

".. I'll think about it."


	44. Television Crush

He heard the cheesy background music the moment he entered the condo. Curious, Wilson walked into the living room, "Uh, House..?"

"Hey, Wilson." House was slumped back on the couch, eyes glued to the television.

"Are you.. watching  _Star Trek_?" Wilson leaned up against the back on the couch, his chin coming to rest on top of House's head.

".. Maybe. What's it to you?"

"I just didn't peg you as a Trekkie, is all." Arms wrapped around House's shoulders.

"I'm not a Trekkie." House grumbled.

"Oh? Then why're you watching old episodes of a sci-fi t.v. show?"

House mumbled in lieu of a reply.

Wilson smiled, "I'm sorry? I didn't quite catch that."

".. I kinda think the doctor's hot, okay? Now shut up and lemme watch already."

"That is rather illogical, Greg." Wilson said in his best Spock voice, nibbling gently on House's earlobe.

"Hm. Just for that, I'm gonna throw you down and do naughty things to you once this show's over."

"I won't complain." Wilson grinned.

"Like I'd stop even if you did." House's hand reached up, pulling Wilson's head down, capturing his lips in a heated kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't have a crush on Dr. Leonard McCoy???


	45. Double

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As in 'date'.

"I can _not_  believe you thought I'd actually want to do this..!" House was complaining under his breath as he got dressed.

Wilson was standing at the bathroom mirror, shaving, "It's no use whining about it, House. I told her we'd go, so we're going."

"Do you have any idea how awkward it's going to be?" the diagnostician demanded, leaning in the doorway.

"Not nearly as horrible for you as it would be if I cut you off from sex until you agreed to go?"

".. I hate you."

"So long as you're ready to go in the next ten minutes, I don't care."

\-----

The two men walked into the restaurant, looking around momentarily before heading over to an already occupied table.

"I wasn't sure you'd be able to convince him to come." Cuddy smiled, thoroughly impressed.

Wilson took the seat across from her, "It's amazing what a few threats can do for you."

As the two began chatting cheerfully, House slumped in his seat, staring at the gray-eyed man across the table, "Hey, Lucas."

The younger man nodded at him, clearly as uncomfortable as House was, "Hey there, House."

".. This' gonna be.. interesting."

"Or something like that."

\-----

"We are  _never_  double-dating with them again!" House growled as he stormed into the condo.

"C'mon, House, it wasn't that bad." Wilson sighed as he followed after him.

"'Not that bad'? Were you at the same table as me? There's nothing more awkward than going out with a woman you used to love, unless her boyfriend comes along and spends the whole goddamn evening bragging to you about their relationship!"

".. House, you and Lucas hardly even spoke a word to each other."

"He didn't have to  _say_  it. I could see it in his eyes." House threw open the refridgerator door, grabbing a beer.

Wilson rolled his eyes, "You're just being ridiculous."

"No, ridiculous is you telling them 'Let's do it again sometime soon.'!"

".. Er, well.."

Icy blue eyes glared at Wilson, "'Well',  _what_?"

"We're kind of already.. going out with them again this weekend."

House stared at him in silence for what felt like hours, sipping on his beer and studying Wilson. Finally, he spoke with an eerily calm voice, "For every double-date you make me go on with them, I'm going to finish during sex first and then leave you hanging."

"Oh, yeah right."

"You think I'm kidding?"

Wilson bit his lip, staring into House's firm gaze. He let out a small sigh, ".. I'll cancel this weekend--"

"Damn straight, you'll cancel this weekend."

"--And call up Cameron and Chase and see what they're doing."

".. I will  _kill_  you."

"It's either going to be Lucas and Cuddy or Cameron and Chase."

".. There's a monster truck rally on Saturday that I know Cameron would enjoy.."


	46. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: angst, nightmares

As open as the two men were in their relationship, there were some things that they knew the other wouldn't want to talk about. For example, the way Wilson would whimper House's name as they would start to get intimate. House thought it was endearing and, at first, funny. Wilson didn't share either sentiment. After a few days without sex, House had agreed to keep his opinions of the matter to himself.

Currently, there was one thing that neither man felt very comfortable with talking about, both having completely different reasons. It had started out as something small and occasional, growing into a nearly every day event.

House was having nightmares.

He never actually admitted it aloud; he didn't have to. Wilson was awakened by his thrashing form plenty of times to know the cause.

House would be covered in cold sweat, his face contorted into an expression of pain mixed with fear. The oncologist would speak to him soothingly, running his hand comfortingly up and down the older man's arm until he stopped thrashing about. Wilson would then scoot closer, still whispering to him as he pulled House flush against his body, holding him tightly. House's sleeping form would cling desperately to Wilson. He stayed true to his stubborn self, not once making a distressed sound.

Wilson would respectfully never ask House about it the following day. There were some things he knew that needed to stay strictly between House and Dr. Nolan.

House would stubbornly never offer the information to Wilson. He didn't see the point in telling his best friend and lover that he was having nightmares of the day he was sure Wilson would leave him a broken mess, his only company his constant guilt over the past.


	47. Planning

The warm days of summer were drawing to an end. The leaves were falling off of the tree, the number of annoying insects was decreasing every day, and the temperature was dropping steadily. And much to a certain diagnostician's dismay, the number of patients with the sniffles suddenly increased dramatically.

There were too many hypochondriacs in New Jersey as far as House was concerned, and they all seemed to be drawn to PPTH. After seeing only the third patient during his clinic shift, House headed up to his office, paging his team down in his place.

As he got off of the elevator, he heard a familiar laugh and decided to take a quick look. He rounded the corner, his eyes falling upon Wilson chatting and laughing with one of the nurses.

Now, House knew he could be a jealous idiot, he really did. By looking at that nurse's pretty smile and huge rack, who could blame him? Hell, he'd cheat on himself with her if he could.

He could feel his heart sinking lower and lower with each passing moment, watching the two behave so comfortably around one another. He'd always known it was just a matter of time before Wilson cheated on him.

Suddenly, Wilson and the nurse were both looking over at House. Wilson smiled, gesturing for him to come over. Against his better judgment, House complied, gripping his cane tightly.

"House, this is Nurse Moreno. She was just telling me about her cousin, a travel agent."

The woman smiled up at House, speaking with a slight Spanish-American accent, "Nice to meet you. Doctor Wilson was just telling me about your plans to take a two week vacation together. My cousin would be happy to help you pick where to go and even give you a discount on fares."

Icy blue eyes looked from Wilson to the nurse to Wilson again, ".. Our vacation?"

"Yeah. I told her I wanted to find a nice, relaxing place that's easy on your leg."

"We don't have to sacrifice a decent trip because on my leg, Wilson." House grumbled.

"It's not a sacrifice if it's made by somebody who loves you with all their heart." Wilson shot back.

".. You're so gay. Fine, do whatever you want." House turned and headed to his office.

About an hour later, Wilson walked into House's office, "Hey."

House grunted in lieu of a response, leaning back in the corner chair and playing his Game Boy.

Smiling to himself, the oncologist went over to him, sitting down on the foot rest, gently nudging House's legs over, "Are you upset that I told that nurse about our trip?"

"No. I'm upset that you're distracting me while I'm fighting the final boss." House glanced at him for only a moment.

"I hope you know that I meant what I said earlier."

"About how giving head is only for special occasions?"

"Aside from that." Wilson replied without missing a beat.

A small crash and sad music came from House's Game Boy. With a grumble, he set the handheld console in his lap and gave Wilson a half-hearted glare.

".. Oops?"

House took his legs off of the foot rest and leaned forward in his chair, their faces merely inches apart, "I know you meant what you said, James."

Wilson smiled, "Good."

".. I still think it was pretty gay."

"I love you too, Greg."


	48. War

The sky was covered by gray clouds, a heavy rain pouring down from them. The walk along the trail was quiet, too quiet.

He held his gun with both hands, looking around carefully. A few more hits and he was a goner.

Just then, four men wearing opposing uniforms leapt out from behind the trees, aiming and firing at their target.

He quickly shot two of the men, taking a few bullets from the remaining enemies. He hurried behind a tree, taking cover. He worked quickly to find his medical kit in order to stabilize his wounds.

As soon as he was fixed up, he rushed out from behind the tree, firing his gun blindly in the direction he assumed his enemies would be. One-by-one, the enemies fell, blood gushing out from their wounds.

House grinned at the television as a pair of arms came up from behind, wrapping around his neck.

"Can we eat dinner now or are there some more Russians you need to kill?"

"You'll thank me some day when this doesn't really happen." House insisted, setting the game on 'pause'.

"I'll thank you sooner for eating the meal I slaved over."

"Pssh, 'slaved' my ass. Calling out for Chinese food and meeting the driver at the door hardly sounds all that difficult."

Wilson grinned, kissing House's cheek before pulling away, "To-may-to, to-mah-to."

"So... does the hero get any special sex tonight for saving the virtual future?" House leaned back on the couch as Wilson came out with the bag of delicious smelling food.

"How 'bout the hero gets to have sex, period?"

"Hmph. If it's not gonna be special..."

"I have an early meeting tomorrow. Can the special "saved the world" sex wait until Friday?"

"Well. Since you put it that way."


	49. Triad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: non-graphic threesome relationship, and terrible puns.

The day had gone by normally for the head of oncology. Well, as normal as it could get for him.

He had awoken that morning to an apparently insatiably horny lover kissing his neck and rubbing at his crotch through his boxers. At first he had complained, trying to push the older man's hand away. His attempt proved futile, especially when House nibbled at a particularly sensitive bit of skin.

Once he made it to the hospital, he got through his morning appointments with relative ease. By noon, he had successfully finished a good chunk of paperwork and was more than happy to accompany House down to the cafeteria.

They had been sitting for a few minutes, eating and talking. Finally, House set his food down, frowning slightly.

Wilson looked up from his plate, "What?"

".. You're in a good mood."

"That's a bad thing?"

"No. It's more like.. the perfect opportunity for me to make a suggestion."

It was Wilson's turn to frown.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this..?"

"Relax, it's not a big deal." House sat back in his booth seat and stared at Wilson, contemplating how to best approach the subject. After a long pause, he spoke.

"You remember that case I had a few weeks ago? The woman in an open relationship?" He didn't wait for Wilson to acknowledge before continuing, "Which brings me to my next question: What d'you think of Chase?"

Wilson stared at him in shocked silence. He could hardly find the strength to speak. "You.. want to date Chase.. while still dating me?"

He shrugged, "Well, you're half right."

"'Half'?"

"I was thinking that  _we_  could date him."

"I don't understand." Wilson's frown grew.

"C'mon, James. Even you have heard of threesome relationships."

"Yeah, but I've never contemplated being in one!" Wilson exclaimed, leaning forward. However, when he noticed that the people around them were starting to stare, he sat back, his voice quieting, "Are you tired of sleeping with me? Is that why you wanna invite Chase into the relationship?"

"Are you stupid?" he deadpanned, "I've seen the way you look at him, near and far."

The oncologist's eyes widened fractionally. "You wanna do this.. for me?"

The older doctor had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, ".. Maybe."

Wilson couldn't help but smile softly, reaching his leg out to rub against House's, "And because you're attracted to him as well?"

".. Don't be stupid."

-...-

The three men were lounging around the condo's living room just after having dinner together. Casual jokes and laughter filled the air as the evening continued to pass comfortably.

The laughter soon died down, each man's thoughts turning to how the evening could possibly end.

"So. Who wants dessert?" House asked suddenly.

"Greg, we don't  _have_  anything for dessert."

"Well, it sounded better than asking 'Who wants to go into the bedroom and make wild, hot love to each other until day light?', don't you think?" House glanced from one man to the other, shrugging.

"You're both serious about this, then." Chase stated softly, glancing down at his drink as he took a sip.

"Duh. 'Hey, wanna come over to our place and eat dinner and have a fuck? Haha, just kidding!' is kinda a shitty joke."

The blonde's cheeks tinted the slightest hint of pink, "W-Well, the way you asked me didn't exactly help put my faith into the situation."

".. What'd he say?" Wilson asked reluctantly.

"'Hey, wanna come over to our place and eat dinner and have a fuck?'"

Wilson stared at House.

"Why'd I even bother asking..?"

"You just don't seem to learn, James."

"So.. this is a onetime thing then." Chase concluded, mostly talking to himself.

"Uh, not.. exactly." Chase shot a sharp look at Wilson, eliciting a rather noticeable blush from him. "I mean.. _I_ don't want it to be, but.. it's up to you and Greg, too."

The diagnostician and the intensivist turned to stare at each other from across the room, apparently sizing up the other. House was the first to speak.

"There's no denying that you're hot..-ish. That intelligible accent could become a problem when I misunderstand your telling me 'no' when I try to go for a middle-of-the-night fuck, though."

Chase couldn't help but smile. That was the closest thing to admitting that he liked Chase that House would get.

"And I suppose I'll be able to look past the fact that you're old as hell." Chase shot back.

"Great, we're all on the same page then."

" _Now_  it's time for 'dessert'." Wilson got to his feet.

"But I thought you said we didn't have-- Oh, I see what you did there!" The diagnostician grinned, standing as well.


	50. Hide

The full moon shone brightly in the late night sky. It was almost like it was daylight. A cool, gentle breeze rustled the leaves of nearby bushes and trees, carrying the wonderfully familiar scent of a summer night.

A single glass filled with ice and amber liquid sat on the back porch table, its condensation slowly dripping down and pooling at its bottom. On either side of the small table sat a deck lounge chair that faced the cloudless sky.

An older man sat in one of the chairs, idly working on a secret project of his. He bit lightly at his bottom lip, staring from one thing in his hand to another, trying to make the right decision.

Before he had the proper time to consider, he heard a noise behind him. Somebody else was awake in the condo-like apartment.

He shoved everything back into its box, careful of where he put things, before grabbing the glass and carrying it and the box inside.

A younger man stood in front of the opened refrigerator door, the blinding white light filling the previously dark home. He only wore a long t-shirt that just barely covered him down below.

".. Wilson?" House inquired, making his way over to the kitchen island with some difficulty, "Thirsty?"

"Mm, well, I thought that if I could find the bourbon I could persuade you to come back to bed."

"Too late. I found it an hour ago."

"And you're not shit-faced drunk yet?" Wilson sounded surprised as he turned around, shutting the appliance door behind him. He squinted, willing his eyes to readjust.

"I was busy." House set the glass down before pressing a kiss to the shorter man's lips. His stubble brushed against Wilson's clean shaven face.

"When will you tell me what you're working on?"

"When I'm done with it."

The diagnostician headed back into their bedroom, grabbing Wilson's hand and pulling him along. After he put the box back in its place, he joined his lover in their bed, nuzzling his face in the younger man's brown hair.

As Wilson's breathing evened out, House's thoughts wandered to the box he had been hiding for so many weeks.

He began to slip into sleep himself, vaguely wondering if his lover would even like it when he finally gave it to him.

When he considered just how 'gay' Wilson seemed to him, though, he was reassured and slept peacefully that night.


	51. Bottle of Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More so friendship and pre-slash.

_"You didn't think he would stay forever?"_

That was true. He didn't expect Alvie to remain at his place. Why would the annoying little bastard even want to?

Sure, his former roommate had taken an inexplicable shine to the diagnostician, but it was understandable that he'd rather stay with his cousin than stay with a man he used to live in a psych ward with.

Unfortunately, that did little to help the older man feel better about the situation. Too much was changing too fast. People were saying things one day and taking them back the next. Didn't they realize that that's not how things worked for House?

First, Wilson wants to get him out of the condo so he and Sam could be alone. Then Alvie shows up. Wilson tries to talk House into moving back into the condo, obviously influenced by Cuddy. Then Alvie leaves.

And House is finally completely and utterly alone.

He didn't suppose getting so depressed over it was helping his recovery either. What kind of man was he to nearly fall apart without his best friend or best friend substitute close by? At least he acknowledged that if he weren't so shaken up over the whole ordeal there would be no reason for him to continue seeing Doctor Nolan.

Doctor Nolan.

Now there was a therapist that made House want to laugh out loud, without a drip of humor in his voice. For over a year he'd done what the man asked and as a result..

Well, he had yet to actually  _see_  any results. He couldn't contribute his lack of hallucinations to his therapy sessions; they had been caused by the Vicodin. And he was still the same malicious bastard that everybody around him had somehow learned to tolerate, which could most likely be attributed to his medical genius. Without his mental prowess, there would be no reason for them to put up with him.

He recognized this quite well. He saw that he made it difficult for people to get near them. Once they did, House would only try the limits of their relationship until it would inevitably dissolve.

He didn't know how to fix it and  _god_  he really wanted to. He wanted to be able to spend time with friends, laughing and talking freely without his mind analyzing each and every word and action. He didn't want to drive people away. He wanted Wilson to not feel used. He wanted to tell Cuddy that he wished her happiness and have her actually believe him. He wanted somebody to just be able to love him. All of him, from his medical genius to his childish personality to his lack of social restraint to all of the problems he was still dealing with. He  _wanted_  to talk to that somebody about his horrible childhood, rather than display his weaknesses for a man he hardly knew.

He supposed he could attribute his lack of trust to his dad, but that didn't make his being an asshole alright. His father was dead and he would just have to get over it already.

But if getting off of drugs and continuing to see a therapist wasn't going to really help, what hope did he have?

-...-

Following the crane/building collapse emergency, the days passed by uneventfully. House had never realized just how quiet and lonely his apartment was. Nobody was expected to be coming home soon, nobody was expected to barge in and stay with him without really asking, and nobody was even expected to visit.

It was just him, a glass of bourbon, and a television set.

He was slumped back on his couch, his legs propped up on his recently recovered coffee table. The glass sat on his thigh, balanced by one hand while the other hand rubbed at his leg.

He was suddenly struck by just how badly he missed Vicodin. When he was on Vicodin, there wasn't any time to sit down with a clear mind and constantly have to push down the emotions that threatened to erupt at any given moment. He was blissfully unaware of what a lonely shambles his life had become. He could have one drink and pass out within a half hour, no 'sad drunk' vibe leaking out of him to ruin the mood.

He kept two pill bottles in a safe place, strictly for the feeling of security. What helped him through every day was the knowledge that if he just crashed one day and couldn't handle things, it would all be gone with the help of two little white pills. Even when he was living in the condo with Wilson and the pills were so far away.. at least they were available.

Whether he liked to admit it or not, House also liked to have them around as validation. The still-full bottles proved that he was able to keep his head floating above the water, no matter how strong the current was getting.

He finished off the amber liquid, letting out a small, almost relieved, sigh.

Perhaps, if by some  _bizarre_  not-miracle, there was just the slightest bit of hope for him.

-...-

House refused to let himself remain depressed about the whole situation. He didn't think he could get any lower, so the only place to look now was up. He still had his job and all of the people who needed him on a daily basis. For now, that would have to suffice.

Not that he would ever let any of them know. Where would the fun be in that?

Sarcastic remarks and nearly-degrading jokes were still a part of the diagnostics department. They did their jobs, pissed each other off, and at the end of the day decided that they thought they would come back and do it all over again the next day.

Consistency.

That's what House had missed, not the Vicodin. Well, not  _just_  the Vicodin. After all, taking the pills had been a part of his daily ritual for a good number of years.

He sat in his office, contemplating this. His legs were stretched out beneath his desk; his hands were occupied by his overgrown red and gray tennis ball. His piercing blue eyes stared at the far wall.

He didn't even notice when Wilson walked in from the shared balcony.

Wilson frowned, watching his friend. The older doctor wasn't moving. It almost seemed like he wasn't even breathing. Ever the cautious man, Wilson reached a hand out and grabbed House's shoulder.

The caring act earned the oncologist a tennis ball upside the head.

"Ow! House!" Wilson took a few steps back.

"It's your own damn fault for sneaking up on people." House insisted, turning to look up at him.

When they only spent a few moments staring at one another, House sighed.

"... Well?"

"Oh, right. Uh.. How've you been?"

"Just fine."

"Great, that's great. D'you maybe wanna grab something for dinner? There's this-"

"Did you do something stupid and get Sam mad at you?"

"What? No. I just want to hang out with you. It's been a while."

"Fine, you can buy me dinner. But no sex until the second date."

"Gee, how noble of you."

"Actually, that rule only applies to you. Everybody else gets the opportunity to jump into my bed after just buying me a drink."

-...-

The following morning, House awoke with a pounding headache of a hangover. He could hardly remember any of the previous night.

He and Wilson had grabbed a bite to eat at some stupid little cafe, then came back to his place to watch television and share a bottle of whiskey. After about the third glass.. the night got hazy.

It took him a moment to realize he was sleeping on his stomach, atop something lumpy as opposed to comfortable couch cushions.

That's when he heard a soft thumping noise. The warm, lumpy mass had a heartbeat.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, openly wincing at the sunlight peeking through his windows. He really needed to invest in some better curtains.

He saw the empty whiskey bottle lying on its side on the coffee table, two glasses nearby. The television was off. When had they turned it off? Oh, right. After they thought it would be a good idea to play some junior high game like Truth or Dare; he couldn't quite remember which it was.

He turned his head to look up at whoever it was he was sleeping on. He froze once he spotted Wilson.

The younger man was on his back beneath him, stretched out on the couch. House was lying in between his legs, his head resting on Wilson's chest. The oncologist had a hand carded in House's hair, his free arm around the older man.

Well, House thought as he turned his head back to fall asleep again, if memory from the previous night was serving him correctly, this was the least-gay thing he and Wilson had done in the past twenty-four hours.


	52. Explosive Revenge

It was all too clear that something was wrong when Wilson entered the hospital on that particularly warm June morning. He had seen the fire trucks first, followed by the slightly thick smoke emitting from a few ground-floor windows.

He walked closer to inspect. It didn't seem as though anybody was in danger. In fact, aside from the smoke and fire trucks, everything seemed to be just about normal. The clinic was running just fine and the main desk was bustling with its usual activity.

The only inconsistency was that he didn't see Cuddy running towards him with some new complaints about House. Granted, she was most likely busy dealing with whatever issue had occurred. Still. It was strange to make it all the way to the elevator without so much as a shriek of " _Wilson_!".

There was only one logical explanation for everything. And he was currently up in the office next to Wilson's.

The oncologist took his time getting settled into his office. He wanted to be comfortable, after all. Who knew how long it would take for House to come up with a decent explanation.

The aforementioned was lounging out on his half of the balcony, watching as the smoke rose up into the air. He seemed to be rather enjoying himself.

House barely glanced over when he heard Wilson's balcony door open, "Cuddy's office was the victim of unfriendly fire today."

"So I saw. Any idea what happened?" Wilson walked up to the barrier, leaning up against the wall next to House.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what kinda mood you're in."

"I'm rather neutral at the current moment."

"Really? You're not still basking in the mind-blowing... well, blowing, from last night?" House asked lightly.

"Seeing as how I wasn't on the receiving end? Not particularly." Wilson shot back without missing a beat.

House nodded in lieu of a response, turning his attention back to the smoke. "It was an accident, you know."

"Was it a 'real' accident or an 'on purpose' accident?"

"... Maybe a little of both." House admitted after a moment's thought.

"I  _knew_  you were still looking for revenge for the time she shut down that trial treatment for your patient."

"Hey, for all we know it could've saved his life."

"House, no matter what your demented mind may think, a four year-old is not a good test subject for possibly unstable drugs."

"So says you."

The two fell into silence, watching the puffs of gray as they passed.

"So... I'll make dinner tonight?" House finally glanced over to Wilson.

The younger brunette nodded slowly, "If you want."

"Good. Now then, if you're quite done gossiping, I've got a life to save." House stood up straight and started back into his office. Just before he slipped inside, he turned back around. "I bought some fireworks in Pennsylvania. Apparently they're illegal in other states for a reason. Have a tendency to ignite themselves, or something like that..."

Wilson shrugged. "Live and learn."


	53. Firsts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know those amazing, yet unrealistic, "firsts" scenes in Hollywood movies and romance novels? Well, this chapter is basically me taking those fantasies and stomping on them. Just a little bit.

**-First Hug-**

They hadn't known each other for very long at all. In fact, it had been only a few weeks since they had met. And now they were hanging out as if they were old high school buddies.

Ironically, they were in a bar.

"Another round, Phil!" House called loudly to the man at the far end of the bar. As the bartender popped the caps off of two more beers, the young man turned his glazed-over eyes to his even younger friend.

"So.. Wilson, right? C'mon, drink up! I didn't come out here to get drunk by myself."

"Well, one of us needs to be the designated driver.."

"We don't  _need_  a designated driver."

"Not necessarily. However, neither of us has a good enough friend that would come out in the middle of the night to bail us out of jail." Wilson replied, taking a sip of his long-lasting first beer.

"Touché."

They sat there, talking and laughing for what felt like mere moments. Then the bartender informed them that it was closing time. Wilson paid the man before getting off of the bar stool, turning to wait for House.

The older man promptly fell over the second he tried to stand.

"House!" Wilson knelt next to his inebriated friend. He needn't have worried, for the man flashed him a crooked grin that signaled he was far too drunk to have been hurt by the fall.

Wilson helped House to his feet, holding onto him to keep him steady as they left.

Just as Wilson had opened the passenger door, House grabbed him and held fast around the shorter man's middle.

"Uh... House?" Wilson froze, neither returning nor turning away from the hug.

"You're a good friend, Jimmy." House slurred.

Wilson opened his mouth to reply just as House was suddenly pulling away. It was as if Wilson were on fire. He panicked; had he delayed responding too long?

"House, wait!"

"C-Can't. Gotta-" And then House puked his drunken transgressions onto the sidewalk.

**-First Kiss-**

Quite a few years had passed since they first met. They were both accomplished doctors now and extremely good friends. Some would say they were close to the point of a romantic relationship status.

Which was absolutely ridiculous. Maybe.

True, they knew practically everything there was to know about one another. They knew each other's personality better than they knew their own. They knew their quirks and could easily calculate the most likely reaction the other would have to any given situation. But so did a lot of really close friends.

They just also happened to sometimes spend the night at one another's homes and, on  _rare_  occasion, they would accidentally end up wearing an article of clothing that wasn't theirs.

Neither man really minded some people thinking they were closeted lovers. It came in handy sometimes, mostly when House was trying to mess with someone. Wilson was sure he would be furious at House, if he were able to recognize even half of the times it was happening.

This particular night was one of the times he didn't realize it until much later on in the evening. The hospital they were working at was hosting a black tie event on New Year's Eve. Wilson had been going around, mingling like his usual politely social self. House stuck to the open bar as though his sanity depended on it.

The younger doctor had walked by a few times and even gone over to talk with House for a bit. Each time he did so, he saw the same man seated next to House. It seemed as though they were getting along, for which Wilson was glad.

House really did need more friends.

As midnight began closing in, Wilson returned to the bar for another drink. He'd need one, especially if he was going to muster up the courage to kiss a complete stranger at the stroke of twelve.

House and the other man were still on the same bar stools. It was as though neither of them had moved all night. The strange man said something to House, just out of Wilson's hearing range. House turned to face him, a scowl marring his gruff features.

Wilson chose to ignore it; whatever House was getting himself into this time, he could deal with on his own. Wilson tended to get burned whenever he tried to interfere.

He gratefully grabbed his drink, glancing at the clock. One minute left. He chugged his drink as fast as he could, looking around as he did so. He just couldn't seem to find the right woman who looked drunk enough to not take offense to his suddenly shoving his tongue down her throat. Dammit. He silently promised himself that next year he would come better prepared.

He leaned in between House and the stranger to set his glass down, distracted by the unified countdown. Ten seconds left...

A hand grabbed his ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Wilson started to turn around, more than ready to break the stranger's nose. Before he could move too far, House reached up, taking Wilson's face in his hands.

He pulled him down just as "3... 2... 1... Happy New Year!" burst from the crowd. People cheered, kissing their loved ones and hugging their friends.

House and Wilson's lips met in a surprised, somewhat stiff kiss. Brown eyes stared wildly into blue ones, searching for some sort of answer. The blue orbs weren't sparkling or teasing in anyway, which left very little open for interpretation.

They couldn't, or wouldn't, break away from one another. Standing there in front of a bar, bending over a bit, Wilson felt frozen. He couldn't tell whether he was reciprocating or not; he wasn't sure if he cared all that much.

All he knew for sure was that his best friend had just kissed him out of the blue. And neither of them were all that drunk.

Wilson found the strength to pull away when he felt a tongue pressing against his firmly closed lips. He turned slightly, slouching as he faintly gasped.

"H-House.. what the  _hell_."

"Sorry, Wilson. Just had to prove to this guy that I could get you before he did." House replied cheerfully, whirling back around to face the bar.

Wilson stood up straight, just in time to see the stranger handing House a twenty dollar bill.

**-First Fight-** _(Continuation of_   **First Kiss** _)_

"Wilson, what the hell's wrong with you?" House growled as he followed the shorter man out to his car, not two minutes after their kiss.

"What's wrong with me..? What's wrong with  _me_? How 'bout the next time you wanna use me for one of your bets, you at least have the decency to fill me in on what's going on first, huh?" Wilson snapped, throwing his car door open.

House grabbed his arm, keeping him from climbing into the vehicle. "You're overreacting."

"I'm not 'overreacting'! I'm pissed, and I have the right to be." His fiery brown orbs met House's ice blue ones.

"For God's sake, Jimmy, you're acting like you thought it was a real kiss-" House started to chuckle, stopping himself short once he saw the solemn look on Wilson's face. "... You  _did_?"

"Shut up, House. I'm done talking." Wilson yanked his arm away, face burning in anger and humiliation as he got into his car. He slammed the door just before speeding off, leaving House to stare after him in silence.

**-First Make-Up-** _(Continuation of_   **First Fight** _)_

Wilson stormed into his apartment late that night, thankful that he was now a divorcé and didn't have the worry of his wife finding out to loom over his head. He could just grab the last few beers in his refrigerator and drink himself to sleep in peace.

He took the case holding the remaining beers and set them on his coffee table, plopping down onto his couch. The can opener just couldn't seem to work properly. It shook around the bottle cap, unable to find a proper hold.

Wilson threw the can opener down, realizing it was his horribly shaking hand that was hindering the tool. He let the unopened beer drop to the floor as he sat back, throwing his head back and rubbing fiercely at his eyes. He was  _not_  going to cry, dammit. There was no reason to!

A loud knock came at his front door. He groaned, willing the person away. He knew it was House; he just didn't need this drama right now...

"Wilson?" a voice carefully called out.

Didn't House know when his presence wasn't wanted?

Wilson took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Honestly, he didn't have a clue as to why he was reacting so violently. So what if his best friend of many years had used him to settle a bet? It certainly wasn't the first time that that had happened.

He just couldn't shake the thought of how nice it was to feel those slightly dried lips against his, tasting the drinks House had been nursing throughout the evening.

"Jimmy, I know you're in there. I followed you home, after all."

Wilson chuckled slightly. Against his better judgment, he rose to his feet and started for the front door. "What d'you want, House?"

"I want you to open this goddamn door." he grumbled.

A few moments of silence followed. Just as House was about to give up, he heard the door being unlocked. Slowly, it opened a crack, inviting him to enter on his own.

He pushed the door open, shutting it behind him. The house was rather dark, the only light streaming in from the streets. The familiar scent of Wilson entered his nose.

"Wilson?"

"In here." His voice came from the living room.

House stumbled through the front hall, his hands placed on the walls to keep him from running into anything. His eyes had adjusted well enough to see where the couch was and, ultimately, where Wilson was seated on it. House made his way to the other end of the couch and sat down.

"Look, Wilson-"

"There's not much to talk about, House." Wilson interrupted quietly.

"The hell there's not. Stop being an evasive little prick, will you? I'm trying to apologize here." the older man snapped.

Wilson gave a soft sigh. "Fine, go ahead."

"Okay." House paused, trying to figure out the right wording for what he was about to say. "I didn't expect you to get so upset about it. I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't."

"Are you gonna shut the fuck up and let me talk?"

"Sorry. Please, go on."

"I didn't think that it would mean so much to you. And... I guess I'm sorry." He just  _knew_  Wilson was raising an inquisitive eyebrow, "Okay, fine! I actually  _am_  sorry. I don't want this to ruin our friendship."

"Shit, House. I wouldn't throw away years of friendship just because you kissed me."

"Then what the hell is the point of all of this?" the diagnostician demanded grumpily.

Wilson leaned towards him, one knee resting on the couch to keep him balanced as he pressed his lips against House's. He pulled away mere moments later. "... Well?"

"What the hell was  _that_?"

"Just wanted to get even. Now c'mon, help me finish these beers." Wilson turned the lamp on before sitting next to the older man, grabbing a beer and the bottle opener.

For now, he mused, he would have to be satisfied with just a friendship.

**-First Date-**

The restaurant was beautiful and obviously expensive. Soft classical music played in the background, everybody was dressed in classy formal attire, and even the atmosphere had a sophisticated air to it.

Wilson got their table and sat down, wondering how long his companion was going to be. He couldn't help but worry; what horrible news could House possibly have to give him to make him think that a fancy restaurant was the right place to do it in?

He fumbled absently at his tie. It was plain and dark, the 'least ugly' of all of his ties according to House. The fact that House had specifically requested that he wear that tie only served to fuel Wilson's growing apprehension.

Wilson waited for a good ten minutes, waving off waiters as they came by. He promised House that he would wait for him and he was a man of his word. His growling stomach argued otherwise; if that bastard didn't show up soon, hell yes he was going to start without him.

A hand briefly squeezed his shoulder as its person moved past him, sitting in the chair across from Wilson. The oncologist breathed a sigh of relief. It was House. Finally they could eat and go over whatever horrifying thing the man had to tell him.

As they started talking and laughing in their general friendly banter, Wilson couldn't help but notice that House actually looked like he had tried to dress nicely. There wasn't a pair of jeans or sneakers in sight. His dress shirt was tucked in, the blue color agreeing with his eyes. To top things off, he'd shaved.

Gregory House, the scruffiest, grumpiest doctor known to mankind, had  _shaved_.

Wilson began to wonder just who the hell had died.

After a couple of hours, they were ready for the check. House merely handed the waiter a credit card.

That was the last straw for Wilson.

"Who the hell died?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

The older man blinked at him, confused, "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you're being amazingly nice and actually using decent manners," House's confused expression changed to a slight grin, "you dressed up to take me to a fancy restaurant," His grin grew, "you're  _paying_ and you  _shaved_. And just what are you smiling about?"

"Are you really that dense, James?" House asked, incredulous.

"No! I- Why?"

"Well, you'd think that even a genius like you would've been able to recognize when he was out on a date."

**-First Time-**

The room was suddenly hot, too hot. No, that couldn't be the room temperature. It was his own body heat. Yes, his body.

Breaths were becoming shorter and more strained as sweat dripped down their shaking bodies. The faint aroma of vanilla lubrication filled their nostrils, mixing in with each man's personal scent.

His pupils were blown and his legs were spreading wider and wider. He just couldn't seem to open up enough to take away some of the painful pleasure he was experiencing as House pounded into him. He thanked every god he could think of that the older man had insisted on preparing him, when all Wilson had wanted was to just start already.

Brown orbs met blue ones, silently conveying words that his mouth just couldn't form. He loved him. Oh  _god_ , how he loved him.

House responded with a deep kiss, changing the angle of their love making. Almost immediately, he struck the shorter man's sweet spot, diminishing the last of his rear virginity.

Just when the friction was becoming too much, House came, yelling his completion until his voice was raw. His body rocked like a dam exploding, his seed shooting deep within his lover.

The sensation of being filled was all it took to drive Wilson over the edge, ribbons of white splattering his and House's fronts. House collapsed on top of him, resting his head on Wilson's shoulder, not yet pulling out.

They just lay there for several silent minutes trying to catch their breath as they basked in post-coital bliss.

Eventually, House found the strength to turn his head so he could look up at Wilson. "So?"

"Best sex I've ever had with a man." Wilson replied with a tired smile.

"Best sex you've ever had with a man so far." House corrected him, kissing his jaw.


	54. Crowded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: threesome relationship

The first rays of daylight peeked in from behind the curtains, falling onto the three lumps beneath the warm blanket. Sounds of the beginning day could be heard from outside, as well as through the walls where neighbor's apartments were. As his mind turned from sweet dreams to a groggy fog, Chase silently cursed the early-rising neighbors.

He lay there, completely silent and still as he grew more and more aware. His body was a comfortably warm temperature, which he was certain would be true regardless of the thick blanket. On either side of him lay an older man, each curled up against the blonde in their own way. Wilson lay with his body pressing up against Chase, his head tucked comfortably in the crook of the youngest man's neck; House lay almost on top of Chase, an arm stretching across both men and his nose angled perfectly to smell golden locks with each breath.

The intensivist couldn't have felt more at peace than at that moment. Even in their sleep, his older lovers managed to express their desire to feel his comforting touch and let him know just how happy they were to return the favor.

Wilson stirred slightly, lips unwittingly brushing against Chase's neck as he did so. He mumbled, his voice so soft and almost incoherent, "Mm... House."

An unexpected pang hit Chase's heart and the confusion he'd been feeling nearly every day since they had established this - whatever it was - came rushing back to his mind.

What did they want with a young guy like him? He felt like he would be kidding himself if he thought for even one second it was for a reason other than sex. He was more flexible and had much more stamina than either of them, so what else could it be? It certainly wasn't for his status as a doctor; they were doctors, too, and knew so much more than he did. It couldn't be because they suddenly found his personality appealing; sure, he and Wilson had always been civil, perhaps even friendly, to one another, but he and House had been driven to the point of punching each other on more than one occasion.

Even if it were possibly for a reason other than sex, Chase still felt a bit like a third wheel. House and Wilson knew one another like the back of their own hands, mentally and physically. Chase hadn't known either man for nearly as long and, until recently, had never had a reason to learn more than general information. Yes, he was indeed learning each and every day, but he couldn't help but get jealous whenever they were sitting around or lying in bed and he caught House and Wilson exchanging conversations without either saying a single word.

And even now, with both men on either side of him recharging after a long night intertwined with intense pleasure and intimacy, it just didn't seem like he would ever have the hope of becoming much more than a temporary fling. They would surely get rid of him when he was no longer new and exciting.

It made him sick to his stomach that he loved them both too much to do anything about it.

-...-

As the week wore on, Chase fell deeper and deeper into his disparaging thoughts. It didn't go unnoticed by his two lovers, either. They didn't discuss it; there was no need to. They already knew what the other's plan of action was.

Wilson's approach was to become as loving and comforting as he could around Chase. Perhaps all the younger man needed was some reassurance.

House's approach was to become an even bigger pain in Chase's ass. Perhaps all the younger man needed was to be pushed over the edge.

One way or another, they'd figure out what was bothering the blonde.

-...-

After a few short days of being run ragged at work and being almost babied when he got home, Chase could definitively affirm that he was far more confused than ever before. Of course, he knew that both men had these personality traits from the get-go. Unfortunately, it seemed as though they'd both simultaneously decided to crank it up a few notches.

Chase was more than ready to find an excuse for returning to his own apartment for the night, if only for some relative peace and quiet. However his brain was far too exhausted to come up with a decent excuse.

He came out of the bathroom and started down the hallway. He stopped himself short of the living room when he heard Wilson and House talking somewhat quietly in the kitchen.

"Any progress?" House's deep voice was low, even a bit soft.

"No! I'm at the end of my rope here. Maybe he's just tired of us, Greg."

"Bullshit. There's no way he'd be tired of us.  _I'm_  not even tired of us."

"Well, maybe he's tired all the same. We do kinda put a lot of, er, physical pressure on him, y'know."

"He doesn't have sex unless he's up for it, dumbass. He's certainly not afraid of shutting down my hopes for a party when I've just about reached the point of no return."

"Well then, Mr. Genius, why don't  _you_  come up with a more sensible explanation?"

"Maybe he's homesick, misses wrestling with crocodiles and talking with a bunch of people who share the same unintelligible accent."

Chase couldn't help but snort at that.

House and Wilson paused.

"If you're going to spy on people, Aussie, it might be a good idea to keep your big mouth shut." House stated loudly.

The blonde came out from around the corner, a sheepish grin on his face, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. Well, now that you know we've been fretting over you like mother hens, care to share with the rest of the class as to why you're behaving like an emo twelve year-old girl?" House grumbled as Chase walked over to them.

"It's no big deal." He leaned up to kiss House, then turned to kiss Wilson, "I suppose I just missed being worried over."

"Oh yeah? How completely and utterly gay. You two were made for each other." House stated in faux disgust, looking from one lover to the other and back.

"An 'I love you' would suffice,  _Greg_."

"Well,  _Robert_ , you can bite me."

"Gladly."

"... On second thought, bite Wilson instead. He's the closet-masochist."

"Uh, House? I'm right here."

"Oh dear. How embarrassing. I completely forgot." House rolled his eyes at Wilson.

Chase stood back for a moment to watch the two exchange the good-natured bantering. As he stepped in to break it up, he supposed he didn't mind their knowing one another better than Chase.

It provided for a lot of entertainment, after all.


	55. Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles within a drabble.

_-Silence-_

It was late when House finally crawled into bed.

He had been on a roll and opted to stay at the hospital to finish diagnosing the patient. Wilson had been a bit surprised, as well as relieved. The older man seemed to be gaining a  _bit_  more compassion with each passing day.

Wilson went to bed at a semi-decent hour. He refused to stay up and wait for House; he was a big boy and could come home at any time of the day. Unfortunately, he couldn't fall asleep. As much as it embarrassed him to admit, if only just to himself, it was impossible to truly relax without the taller, warm frame beside him.

So when House slipped beneath the covers, Wilson gave a small sigh. His tense shoulders relaxed once House spooned up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

The diagnostician kissed the back of the shorter man's neck, offering him no words.

They didn't need to speak. They already knew what the other man would say.

_-Haste-_

"D-Dammit, House, I told you we had to hurry! I have an appointment in -  _ah!_  - ten minutes."

"Oh, be quiet. You like the idea of possibly being caught."

"Not by a patient!"

"Fine. But you can't expect me to finish us both off in such a short time. Move your goddamn hips or something."

A few minutes later, both men collapsed, spent, on the couch.

"... W-We are  _never_  having sex in my office  _ever_  again."

"That's what you said last time, James."

_-Blemish-_

It wasn't a particularly well-known fact, but James Wilson had a few scars of his own on his legs. One lazy night, House decided that he should know about them.

He had Wilson sit on the bed up against the headboard. Slowly, House removed the oncologist's pants. He then lay on his side next to the seated man and began tracing his fingers along the various faded marks.

He started with the feet and worked his way up.

First, he spotted one on Wilson's ankle. Further investigation would inform him that it was from a time he had tripped over something as a child. There were a few splotches of faded red on his calf from chicken pox. There was a thin one just above his left knee. They had apparently had a cat at some point when Wilson was a teenager. Needless to say, the cat didn't exactly take a shining to the would-be oncologist.

There was a darker, more recent one on his inner thigh that House recognized as his own doing. He didn't exactly remember biting Wilson hard enough to leave any lasting marks.

When his fingers lingered on that particular mark, Wilson reached a hand down to card through his hair. "Okay, you've seen my scars. Am I any less attractive or intriguing to you?"

"Mm, not really. I'm just amazed."

"Why?"

"You hardly have any scars from falling as a kid. You must've been pretty boring."

"I was saving my energy for you."

_-Slick-_

Very rarely did either man spill something without making sure they cleaned it up or, in House's case, make sure somebody  _else_  cleaned it up.

On that rare occasion, House might be hobbling along when the slippery floor would make him momentarily lose his footing. Thankfully, he usually had something to grab onto before crashing painfully onto the floor.

The one time there wasn't anything nearby, Wilson felt his heart jump up into his throat once he heard the heavy  _'thud_ '.

"House?"

" _Shit_."

At that, Wilson bolted in the direction of the grunt. He saw House on the floor. "House!"

"Wilson, wait, there's something on the-"

" _Gah_!" A moment too late, Wilson failed to slow down. He slipped backwards and fell, landing directly upon House's outstretched hand.

" _Ow_ , what the hell is wrong with you?"

"It's not like I planned that!"

"Just shut up and help me."

As Wilson helped House to his feet, he couldn't help but chide, "I told you you needed to start cleaning up your messes."

"... Bite me."

_-Bake-_

House didn't really celebrate Christmas.

It wasn't that he didn't like the holiday or didn't like getting presents. It was just that after celebrating it for so many years, it kind of lost its luster.

So that year when he got the urge to bake cookies, he didn't bake Christmas cookies. No, that would be hypocritical. Instead, he baked Hanukkah cookies, complete with dreidels and Stars of David.

He hadn't properly gotten tired of celebrating that holiday, not that Wilson was an extremely devout Jewish man. It was just nice to have somebody to blame if anyone were to question his cookie baking.

_-Snow-_

House came home one night to find an exceptionally dark condo. The lights were all off and the television wasn't on. The only light came in from the glass on the back doors.

His brow wrinkled as he moved further inside, using his cane to help him see. It was too early for Wilson to be in bed.

"James?"

"On the couch, House."

Curiously, House found his way to the couch. He reached out for Wilson, finding his head.

"What the hell're you doing?"

"Watching the snow fall."

"Hmph." The taller man maneuvered around the couch before sitting down next to the other man, who immediately curled up into him.

Wilson settled his head just below House's chin, giving a soft sigh. "I was hoping you'd be home before it stopped."

"... You are the gayest man alive." House grumbled.

After a moment, he wrapped his arm around Wilson.


	56. Loving Him Gives Me a Headache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More drabbles within a drabble.

Weekend

For as long as he could remember, Wilson had liked to reserve weekends for two things: relaxing or doing paperwork. That hadn't changed much after he'd gotten married. Each wife had learned to adjust to his undying habit; after all, that's what you do for somebody you love, isn't it?

Long before House and Wilson's relationship grew beyond close friendship, House had refused to let the oncologist be so 'boring'. He often planned things for them to do together, such as go see a monster truck rally or hang out at bars.

At first, Wilson had been extremely annoyed with House's unwillingness to let him have his weekends the way he wanted them. Why couldn't the older man simply see that that was just how Wilson operated? The weekend was time for Wilson to relax his body by lounging out on the couch and relax his mind by doing paperwork that required little-to-no thinking.

He was determined to have his weekends the way they'd always been.

One Saturday afternoon House had shown up on Wilson's doorstep unannounced, a grocery bag in hand. Wilson answered the door with a murderous expression.

"House, I'm tired. I don't wanna go hang out until two o'clock in the morning; I wanna rest."

"Will you shut up and move? I'm trying to walk in."

Wilson's brow furrowed with confusion. "You came over to hang out at my place?"

"Nope. My stove broke and you're the only person I know who'd let me take over their kitchen for the day." House shoved past him.

The oncologist watched him walk into the kitchen before shutting the door. 'This is new...' he thought to himself as he went back to his paperwork.

Not twenty minutes later a deliciously rich smell wafted in the air. Wilson couldn't be sure, but he thought it was one of his favorite meals. He sat there for a few moments, wondering how House had remembered such a thing. It had taken him telling his wives several times before they remembered; he had only told House once.

As he got up to inspect, he decided that maybe changing his routine wouldn't be so bad.

Loyal

Wilson absolutely hated it when House compared him to a dog. No matter what House thought, being told that he had 'big brown puppy eyes' was not a complement, in Wilson's opinion.

One night they'd gotten into a huge fight after one of House's dog comments and Wilson soon found himself at a nearby bar, hoping to cool off. He sat on the stool and glared into the amber liquid in his glass, sipping at it idly as he tried to clear his mind. He supposed it wouldn't be so bad, if only House would tone down the amount of usage.

While he continued losing himself in thought, he failed to notice a large framed man sliding into the bar stool next to him. The man motioned for the bartender to get himself and Wilson another drink. When the brunet didn't respond to the glass being set in front of him, the larger man put a hand on the small of Wilson's back.

"You keep thinkin' so much and you're gonna hurt that pretty little head of yours."

Wilson jerked at the gravelly voice, shooting a look at the man. "I'm not looking for company."

"Aw, don't tell me you just came here to get drunk. That's no fun."

"I'm taken, thanks."

"So? I don't see your guy anywhere." The man looked around for a quick second, grinning smooth lips revealing pearly white teeth. "And mine is currently working at his overnight job."

"I don't do that." 'Anymore.'Wilson bitterly added to himself as he got up. He paid the bartender and turned to leave, momentarily freezing when he saw House at the door.

House waited for Wilson to come his way. Then, unable to hide his grin, he stated, "I knew you were loyal."

"Oh, shut up." the shorter man grumbled as they left, hand-in-hand.

Personal

For as long as he could remember, House was a private person when it came to emotional issues. He never minded giving people too much personal information, especially when it came to his sex life. And, of course, he was unable to deny that he enjoyed sharing a good piece of gossip.

Emotions were difficult for him.

He would sit and watch other people interacting and take in their various emotional reactions and expressions. He could name each emotion easily and could often come up with a reason for why any given person was feeling whichever emotion at whatever time.

When it came to himself, he found it difficult to name the emotion and reason for feeling it. He couldn't watch himself as he interacted with other people. He knew he was a jerk and, for the life of him, he still couldn't understand how people like Wilson or Cuddy would ever want to be a part of his life.

For as long as he could remember, House was a private person when it came to emotional issues. However, when he finally allowed himself to openly love Wilson, the private necessity he'd been upholding for fifty plus years suddenly didn't seem to be so important.

Court

House was there for Wilson during the aftermath of each of his three divorces. For the last two of them, he had even accompanied the younger man to the courthouse. When yet another wife had finished dragging Wilson through the mud and thoroughly cleaned out his finances, House took him back to his place.

They would sit on the couch, share a bottle of bourbon and just be. They would talk if Wilson seemed up to it.

Most of the time, he would just cry. And House would let him, keeping a firm, comforting arm around his shoulders.

Exhaustion

On very rare occasions, House would throw his entire person into a case. He refused to leave the hospital and spent hours alone in his office, staring at his whiteboard as his mind raced. Nobody understood why some cases were so important; they'd stopped pressing for answers when all House ever gave them was an icy glare in lieu of a response.

After those very rare occasions when he eventually did go home, he was purely exhausted. He often called ahead to let Wilson know, if only so the younger brunet wouldn't freak out when he heard somebody moving about the apartment so late at night.

One night House walked through the door to find the kitchen light on. The faint scent of dinner still lingered in the air, he noted as he hobbled inside.

"Wilson?"

"In here." The younger man called from down the small hallway.

Brow furrowed, House made his way into the kitchen to investigate. Wilson never waited up for him.

On any other night, the sight that greeted him would have had him declaring, loudly, that the oncologist was officially the gayest man alive. On this particular night, however, he was far too worn out to bother mocking his friend.

Wilson wore his gray McGill sweater, which covered up his body far too much for House's taste, and a pair of gray sweatpants. His feet were bare on the chilly kitchen tiles where he stood next to the microwave, re-heating a dinner plate for the diagnostician.

He glanced over his shoulder at House, giving him a small, barely noticeable smile that House had come to love more than anything he cared to admit.

"It's late." House grumbled.

"It is. You still need to eat; go sit down and find something on tv."

His brain screamed at him that something was up. It had to be. Wilson had never gone into 'housewife' mode before.

Ignoring his overly-active brain, the older man went to sit on the couch. He flipped through the various television channels until he found something that wasn't Paid Programming. (1) Soft sounds could be heard from the kitchen, indicating his food was ready.

Wilson leaned over House's shoulder and set the plate in the man's lap. Just as House was about to take his first bite, he felt Wilson's hands resting on his shoulders, squeezing them gently.

He titled his head back to look suspiciously up at the younger man.

Wilson offered him that same small smile, bending over to peck House's lips. "Can I help it if a House who actually seems to care about his patients turns me on, too?"

House snorted, turning his gaze back to the television.

As he picked up his fork, he couldn't help but muse that only he and Wilson could get in the mood while a late-night showing of "Shark Week" was on.

Daylight

Before he and Wilson got together, House tended to wake up in pain. His leg would throb and ache, as if begging him to take some Vicodin. He absolutely hated the fact that the first thing he often thought about every day was his damn pills.

After he and Wilson started dating and, ultimately, sleeping together, House still woke up to the feeling of discomfort from his leg. Ever since he'd gotten off of Vicodin, it wasn't nearly as bad. It obviously still hurt on some level; a chunk of his flesh was missing, for crying out loud.

However, he noted that he felt other things when he woke up: stiffness in his back and neck, tingling in his arm and, sometimes, stickiness on his lower abdomen. Soon after, he would open his eyes and be reminded of all the reasons why he felt those other things.

He would see Wilson still sleeping, his boyish features highlighted by the soft rays of sunlight creeping in from the window blinds. His calm face seemed even younger and lovelier during those times, warmed considerably by the sunshine.

As he watched his best friend and greatest lover sleep, House would think back on all the things he felt when he first woke up. His back and neck hurt because of the positions they had either tried during sex, in order to take some stress off of his leg, or the way he had slept to accommodate Wilson's form. His arm tingled because it was Wilson's favorite pillow; House wasn't about to complain that his arm was almost always asleep for the first ten minutes of every day. The stickiness was, quite obviously, evidence of their sexual encounters; he wasn't going to complain about that either.

He would weigh those causes and effects against the dull, throbbing pain emanating from his leg. And as Wilson would slowly wake up and give House the most uninhibited grin, House would kiss him and tell his leg to kindly piss off.

Call

Wilson hated it when he had to go to oncology conferences. It wasn't because the lectures were boring or the coffee was crappy, even if they both were just those things.

He hated going because House liked to play childish games on the cell phone.

It would start out with a subtle text message, something along the lines of how the diagnostician couldn't find any clean pants and so he had to walk around the apartment in just his boxers. It would eventually, and quickly, escalate to House asking him what he was wearing, where he was and if there was any possibility of taking a few sexy pictures and sending them to him.

He would continue the almost non-stop onslaught of text messages during the hours that he knew Wilson would be at the conference. In the last hour of the conference, House would start calling him and leaving explicit phone messages, often detailing the various things he would do to the younger man if he were at home. Wilson would glare and scowl each time he felt his phone vibrate, vowing to let House have it once he was alone in his hotel room.

Wilson would stalk back to his room, irritation bubbling within him. He would listen to the phone messages in order to gain more fuel for when he would call House later to yell at him.

To his embarrassment, he would find that the phone messages were pretty damn hot. He would sit on the edge of the bed, listening to House's gruff voice through the receiver. He tried, and most often failed, to ignore the growing tightness of his pants.

It was ridiculous, he would tell himself. He was not a teenager; he could fight off the urges.

Sometimes Wilson would take a cold shower and watch some television for a few hours afterwards. Other times he would cave and call House right away.

No matter which route he chose, he always ended up calling House.

Present (continuation of Chapter 50)

Weeks passed by and Wilson grew more and more curious. House kept getting up in the middle of the night to go out and work on his... whatever it was he was working on. And whenever Wilson would appear to be getting too nosy, House would go back to his office to work on it.

The oncologist spent countless hours trying to figure out just what the diagnostician could be doing. There wasn't a special holiday coming up anytime soon, nor was there a particular date that meant anything to him or House. Taking House's many quirks into consideration, Wilson still couldn't figure out what the older man was doing.

It drove him crazy. He knew House better than anyone on the entire planet, more than House knew himself, he was convinced.

So why couldn't he guess correctly?

He spent the majority of his time with House trying to get the older man to accidentally spill some information about his project. Wilson knew House hardly ever did anything on accident and he certainly never spilled information unless he wanted to, but Wilson had to at least try for the sake of his sanity.

House was obviously enjoying Wilson's turmoil. He would grin any time he could feel their conversation shifting towards his secret. They were even having more sex; apparently Wilson hoped that House would mistakenly mention something while his mind was clouded with arousal. He should have known that his secret would be the furthest thing from House's mind during those times.

House loved watching the younger man's brow furrow in irritation mixed with confusion. It was another expression that only he could wrench out of him, after all.

Another expression, and ultimately the reason for House's project, was the look Wilson got whenever he was surprised and extremely touched. His eyes would light up with delight and love and his cheeks would turn the slightest hint of pink.

As House handed him a small wooden music box, Wilson looked relieved that the secret was finally out in the open. As he opened it and heard Billy Joel's "Leave a Tender Moment Alone" (2), House got just the reaction he was hoping for.

And when Wilson turned those eyes and his grinning, disbelieving face to House, the diagnostician couldn't have been more glad that, of all the boring faces at that one conference so long ago, he'd found the one that could light up his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) 'Paid Programming' is basically infomercials that show in the middle of the night on American television.
> 
> 2) Billy Joel's "Leave a Tender Moment Alone" was the song that kept playing in the bar where House and Wilson first saw each other, leading to their meeting and becoming friends.


	57. Holiday Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: threesome relationship

House had never been one for decorating his home around the holiday seasons. He saw very little point in putting up a bunch of bright, cutesy things that took up space.

When he and Wilson moved in together, he was all-too relieved to discover that the oncologist wasn't much of a holiday decorator either. As an added bonus, Wilson even made some pretty amazing Jewish holiday foods.

When they'd invited Chase to join their relationship, and ultimately move in with them, House didn't give his holiday traditions much thought. Of the two younger men, House would confidently put money on Wilson being the one more likely to want such a silly thing.

After returning home from a long day of playing with his Game Boy, the diagnostician had to double-take to make sure he was in the right condo.

Christmas lights hung in the windows at the end of the small hallway. Strands of green, red, gold and silver garland hung on practically every surface, littering the floor with colorful fallen strings. A few menorahs hung on the walls, along with little pictures of Santa and snowmen.

Just before House could turn around and go ask the building manager what the hell was going on, a delicious, familiar scent hit him. It was comprised of fried potatoes, most likely latkes (1). Joining the latkes was the warm, sweet aroma of sugar cookies, so much like what his mother had made when he still lived at home.

His mother.

The horrifying thought barely had time to settle before Wilson called from the kitchen, "House, hurry up. The food's getting cold."

As the older man hobbled down the entrance hallway towards the kitchen, he silently vowed severe payback if his suspicions were right.

The first thing House spotted was a large, fresh-smelling pine tree on the far side of the living room. It was beautifully decorated with blinking lights and simple-ball ornaments, topped off with an angel.

A pair of sweater-covered arms slipped around his waist just as a mop of blond hair came into view. "Merry Christmas." said a voice laced with an Australian accent.

House automatically lifted his arm to hold the youngest man closer, grumpily gesturing towards the tree, "Who the hell did that?"

"Me and Wilson." Chase hardly seemed offended by House's lack of finesse as he pressed a kiss to the taller man's jaw before pulling away.

"Then who's making the cookies?" He whirled around, spotting Wilson, still dressed in his work clothes, at the stove.

The brunet stepped aside so Chase could get to the oven, glancing back at House. "Who'd you  _think_  it was?"

"Never mind that." House grumbled, making his way over to the kitchen. He sat himself down at the island, grabbing a still-warm Christmas cookie (2) and taking a generous bite. "I thought you weren't a fan of decorating." the diagnostician stated accusingly.

"I'm not a fan of decorating by myself." Wilson corrected.

"So you and Chase thought that the fact that three men who sleep together just isn't gay enough for Christmas?"

The blond chuckled as he set a tray of cookie dough into the oven, "I decorated every year before we moved in together."

"So this is  _your_  holiday crap."

"You'd better be nice if you want your stocking stuffed." Chase licked a bit of leftover dough off of his finger.

"Hmph. This from the guy who still blushes at the mere thought of anything but vanilla sex."

"At least he's willing to try other things, though." Wilson pressed an affectionate kiss to the blond's forehead.

"Yeah, good for him. He should win the gay medal of honor."

"What're  _you_  so grumpy about? Did work distract you from your super important video games?"

"No, all these ugly, stupid decorations distracted me from my sex drive."

Chase laughed, taking out the last batch of cookies from the oven. "I doubt that."

"Yeah? Well, you just bent over at least four times and I didn't feel like smacking your ass even  _once_."

His eyes widened in mock worry. "Oh dear. Your sex drive really  _is_  gone."

"Don't encourage him. He won't shut up until we have sex with him now." Wilson sighed laboredly.

"What's the big deal? We're done cooking, aren't we?"

Wilson frowned, shutting off the stove, "I'm beginning to think you two planned this or something."

"Don't be ridiculous. Chase knows better than to fall into my web of sexual plots." House grinned, pushing himself up off of the island stool. He went to sit on the couch, setting his cane aside for the time being.

"You're going to watch TV?  _Now_?" It was Chase's turn to frown, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"No, idiot. D'you expect me to  _stand_  while we do this?"

"What's wrong with the bedroom then?"

"Close the blinds if you don't want anybody to see. Otherwise, just shut up and get your asses over here."

"The blinds are already closed, Greg." Despite his annoyed tone, Wilson grinned as he walked over to sit beside House.

House half-glared over Wilson's head, "Waiting for an invitation, Aussie?"

That seemed to jostle the intensivist out of his little stupor. He went to House's other side and just as he was about to sit down the diagnostician stopped him.

"What?"

"Don't sound so nervous. I want you to sit on my lap instead."

"That won't hurt your leg?"

"Let me worry about my damn leg and sit down." House growled as he pulled the blond down to sit, facing him, in his lap. He shifted Chase's and his own body accordingly, as to take a majority of the pressure off of his right thigh.

Blue eyes stared expectantly into hazel ones for several silent, uncalculated moments. Finally, House rolled his eyes.

"Kiss Wilson."

"... Why?"

"Because I said so, Robbie."

"What the bloody-mmf!" Before he could get copiously upset at the nickname, Wilson had pulled him down and kissed him on the mouth.

They broke apart moments later, just barely breathless.

"It's Christmas, Robert. Why don't we just give House what he's always wanted?" The younger brunet smiled.

"And just what, pray tell, is that?"

"Two completely obedient lovers." Wilson's smile grew as House tried, and failed, to suppress a groan.

The blond stared from one older man to the other, thoughtfully chewing on the tiniest bit of his bottom lip. "Only if he promises we can leave the decorations up."

House scowled. "We're negotiating now? When the hell did the house become run by a democracy?"

"When  _this_  House got exactly what he wanted for the holidays." Wilson pressed a kiss to the older brunet's jaw line.

"You got me a week in Vegas with six Playboy Bunnies?"

Chase sniggered softly. He leaned forward to whisper in House's ear as a hand slipped down to palm the oldest man's groin, "Better."

"Prove it." House groaned, grabbing hold of the blond's hips.

-  _Scene Edited Out_  -

An arm wrapped around Wilson's shoulders while the other hugged Chase close. With a tired kiss to each man's temple, House yawned.

"Merry Christmas, House." the blond mumbled, laying his head against the oldest man's chest. A soft snore later would signal that he'd fallen asleep.

"Happy Hanukkah, Wilson."

"Merry Christmas, Greg."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Latkes are a tradition usually reserved for the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah. They are basically potato pancakes.
> 
> (2) Christmas cookies are usually sugar cookies baked into various Christmas-y shapes and decorated accordingly.


	58. Didn't, Doesn't, Don't

House didn't like to sit around and think about Wilson in great detail. That would just be stupid and romantic of him.

He didn't remember what he thought the first time he saw the younger man and he certainly didn't remember wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. He didn't think about how boyishly handsome he had been; he ignored the voice that told him he still was.

He never found himself sitting in his office, be it alone or amongst his team, wondering what Wilson was doing at that exact moment. He never wondered whether or not Wilson thought about him just as much. Who cared, anyways? Definitely not Greg "His Middle Name Should Be 'The Asshole'" House. He had other, far more important things on his mind.

'I bet I could get Wilson to go comando at work sometime...' didn't help his case, the voice smugly stated.

He didn't worry about the younger man when he was late getting home. He was a big boy and could take care of himself. He didn't let himself reflect on the fact that, on more than one occasion, Wilson walked through the door the second House had taken out his cell to call him.

House hated cooking, especially for Wilson. There was no valid reason that the oncologist couldn't make himself dinner every night or breakfast every morning. Granted, he was the one making the meals nine times out of ten, but House stood by his principles, no matter what.

House especially didn't like Wilson's "weekend housewife mode", as he so un-affectionately called it. The younger man would take the time to clean up around the apartment, so long as he didn't have any work to get done. The diagnostician would sit on the couch, holding a book yet not actually reading, and listen to Wilson muttering to himself as he found the various messes House had made and miraculously hid. And he most certainly didn't look forward to the little arguments they would likely have, just so they could make-up later.

The older man definitely wasn't satisfied with just kissing and holding Wilson close at night. He needed sex. He was old, not dead, dammit. He wasn't ever glad when the shorter man came home from work, completely exhausted and only able to stay awake long enough to eat something and undress. And he definitely never kissed the brown mess of hair before falling asleep with a small smile on his face.

In particular, House didn't enjoy sharing a bed with Wilson. The oncologist always curled up against him, leaving him no room to toss and turn as he pleased. Wilson's feet were almost always freezing, and he clung to House for dear life, as though the gimp might try to escape during the night. He never felt the least bit giddy when he thought about how much he must mean to Wilson, for him to behave that way while he was asleep and, therefore, uninhibited.

House absolutely, positively, no-doubt-in-his-mind, hated laying in bed with Wilson, both under the covers and completely clothed while silently listening to one another breathe.

Well, maybe he didn't mind it all that much.

But he was completely sure about everything else.


	59. Night at the Banquet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: threesome relationship

If asked about his three least favorite things, it was almost certain that Greg House would reply: paying for sex, clinic hours and banquets, in that order. The first on his list had been taken care of after he moved into an apartment with Wilson and Chase. There was, of course, nothing he could do about the clinic hours, aside from making his team do them whenever Cuddy's back was turned. As for the banquets, he tried to swear off of them forever, only to repeal his statement when the threat of no sex from  _either_  man was made.

Since the three had begun dating - or sleeping together or whatever-the-hell Wilson and Chase wanted to call it; House didn't care for labels - they had attended a handful of banquets: a charity event, a conference and a few awards events. According to House, each one was just as dull and pointless as the last. After their last appearance at an awards event, the two younger men decided they had to come up with a better solution to keeping House entertained.

The last banquet they attended was in honor of one of the doctors that worked at their hospital. He was a cardiologist and quite an odd-ball at times, but generally speaking he was well-respected by his colleagues and patients.

When they'd received their invitations to the banquet a month in advance, both Wilson and Chase had made a point of individually informing House that he would be going along with them, no matter how much he complained. Surprisingly, the oldest doctor calmly nodded his acceptance of the news before going back to what he'd been doing before they interrupted him. As the days passed, the oncologist and intensivist grew increasingly curious about House's lack of complaint regarding the upcoming event.

In truth, he seemed to have forgotten about the entire thing. Life went on normally - well, as normal as it could ever get for the three of them. Each man went about his work in their own personal way: Wilson handled his patients with compassion and diligently finished his paperwork, Chase performed his usual surgeries and consults with efficiency, and House enjoyed criticizing his somewhat-new team about everything they said or did.

By the time the next month rolled around, and, inevitably, the banquet, nothing had changed with House. There had been no further mention of it from any of the three men; it was on each of their calendars and they were all perfectly well-aware of the fact that it was fast approaching.

The night of the banquet, Wilson and Chase arrived home much later than House, which was not unusual given that they always stayed to ensure paperwork was completed for the day. The three men went about the apartment getting ready; House's silence concerning the matter at hand was incredibly unnerving. The apprehension that had been building up in their chests from day one felt like it was finally going to overflow.

He had to have something planned.

-...-

Things went smoothly as the night progressed. The three men made it to the banquet in time, did the obligatory meet-and-greet with their colleagues and their colleagues' guests, and were seated without issue. Before dinner was served, the honored doctor was to be awarded and give a speech.

As the crowd quieted, Wilson and Chase chanced a glance at one another behind House, who was seated in between them. They managed to acknowledge that nothing strange had happened, yet, and resolved to relax and enjoy the remainder of the evening. If he hadn't tried anything by then, they were certain House just wasn't going to bother.

Not two minutes later, it started.

Chase's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, spotting that he'd gotten a text. Keeping his phone beneath the table and out of sight from all others, he read the text.

_'Chase - What has a lot of teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk?'_

_Sent from: House_

_Time sent: 7:52 p.m._

_'House - I don't know. What?'_

_Sent from: Chase_

_Time sent: 7:53 p.m._

A few moments later, Chase's phone vibrated again. He opened the newest text and had to fight back a snort of laughter.

_'Chase - My zipper.'_

_Sent from: House_

_Time sent: 7:53 p.m._

_'House/Chase - Knock it off.'_

_Sent from: Wilson_

_Time sent: 7:54 p.m._

The speech of the award presenter dragged on, as did the conversations between the three men via cell phone.

_'Wilson/Chase - There are 206 bones in the human body. Do you want another one?'_

_Sent from: House_

_Time sent: 7:59 p.m._

_'House - I'm serious.'_

_Sent from: Wilson_

_Time sent: 8:00 p.m._

_'Wilson/Chase - You know what would look best on you? Me.'_

_Sent from: House_

_Time sent: 8:01 p.m._

_'House - Don't make me puke. And seriously, stop. Chase is beginning to giggle.'_

_Sent from: Wilson_

_Time sent: 8:03 p.m._

_'Chase - That suit's very becoming on you, but if I were on you, I'd be coming too. Also, Wilson says you giggle like a girl.'_

_Sent from: House_

_Time sent: 8:04 p.m._

_'House - STOP.'_

_Sent from: Wilson_

_Time sent: 8:05 p.m._

_'Wilson - You know how I'll stop.'_

_Sent from: House_

_Time sent: 8:06 p.m._

With the final text message sent, House put his phone away in his pocket. He had other things to do to entertain himself, after all. He glanced up at the front of the room where the speaker was finally welcoming the honored doctor up to the podium. The crowd clapped, save House, who took the opportunity to rest his hand on Chase's thigh.

He felt the blond's leg tense as soon as he touched him. He gave a slight squeeze, keeping his gaze firmly trained on the front of the room.

Chase tried to bat his hand away without drawing attention to his lap, but to no avail. House wouldn't dare give up without a fight and they both knew it. The oldest man's hand began rubbing the thigh beneath it, giving it the occasional appreciative squeeze. Chase bit back a slight whimper; if he let the diagnostician know he was a little turned on, it would be all over for his dignity.

House's hand suddenly stroked upwards, cupping the blond's groin. The gasp that escaped Chase's lips was so sharp, but thankfully quiet enough that nobody seemed to notice - aside from House, of course. A smirk curved the oldest doctor's lips upwards before he began gently rubbing the area.

Chase bit his lip hard, certain he was going to leave a mark, if not make himself bleed. A low whine fought its way up and out of his throat, causing House's smirk to grow.

_'Chase - Bathroom?'_

_Sent from: House_

_Time sent: 8:13 p.m._

_'House - Yes. I hate you.'_

_Sent from: Chase_

_Time sent: 8:14 p.m._

The blond slipped away from his seat, heading for the bathroom as quickly as he could manage given his half-hardened member. His knees shook a little as he pushed his way into the, thankfully empty, restroom. He stood at the sink and tried calming his arousal.

House entered the room moments later, looking far too gleeful for his own good. "Problem, Robbie?"

"You're a  _bastard_." Hazel eyes glared at House's reflection in the mirror.

"Like you didn't expect me to do something." He hobbled over to the shorter man. He turned Chase around so that he was leaning against the sink and facing House. "And you'd better be good if you want me to do something about that."

"'That' is your fault, may I point out."

"You're already half-way there." House grinned at his own joke, leaning in to kiss the blond.

"Oh my  _god_."

Chase jerked away from House, looking over to see Wilson standing in the doorway. The oncologist shut the door firmly behind him before turning his disapproving gaze to his two lovers.

"I can't believe you two."

"I-It's his fault!" Chase stammered.

"And you're just an innocent bystander?"

"I'm not the one who was rubbing up against  _his_  crotch beneath the table!"

Brown eyes shot a glare in House's direction. "Oh really."

"Again, like you didn't expect me to do  _something_." House rolled his eyes.

Wilson sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Never mind. Let's just hurry up and get this night over with so we can go home."

"Oh?" House quirked a brow, following Chase towards the door.

"Yes. So we can both take care of this." Wilson's hand reached out, brushing over Chase's groin.

The blond ' _eep_ 'd, stopping short as the two men left. For a moment, he seriously contemplated hiding out in the bathroom for the remainder of the evening. It would probably be a bit easier on him. Then again, he was curious as to what the two would concoct as the night progressed, and so, Chase hurried after them.


	60. Observations from a Retiree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our guy's neighbor has the opportunity to weigh in on things.

Sometimes I swear those men hate each other. I don't know them well enough, personally, to say for sure, but what I hear through the walls tends to support my claim. They're loud and carry on at all hours of the day. One of them seems to be the 'voice of reason' and the other guy seems to be way beyond said reason. They're both doctors, from what my wife, Beth, has told me. She made a point of being nice to the younger doctor, but only after a particularly abusive-sounding conversation carried over to our apartment. When she brought it up, he assured her that there was nothing to worry about; they were both difficult men and their arguing was just the rougher part of their friendship.

' _Friendship_ '. Yeah. Right. On more than one occasion, I've been prepared to go bang on their front door and demand they learn how to screw more quietly. Unfortunately, my wife has stopped me every time. "We were young once, Joe", she says, as if they're a couple of teenagers. She thinks I'm a prude or maybe even homophobic. I couldn't give a damn who people choose to sleep with, but when I start to think that the doctors are secretly rabbits in disguise,  _something_  needs to change. It seems like their relationship has two levels: arguing or having sex, which is just irritating as hell when you're a retired man pushing seventy and merely looking for some goddamn peace and quiet to enjoy with your wife when she gets home from her own busy day.

Another thing that pisses me off about those two is all the pranks they play on one another. The only ones that come to mind right now are the ones that somehow involved an opossum, another with chickens, and another that set off the sprinkler system in their apartment (come to find out, that was somebody else. Only then did I find it hilarious). Those damn pranks usually end in their apartment needing repairs of some kind, which leads to more noise when the repairman comes around.

I don't mind the younger guy when he's away from the older one. He's polite, keeps any noise at a respectable enough level and, most importantly, my Beth adores him. To the older man's credit, she likes him as well (though I've always said she'd somehow find a way to like a guy even if he set our house on fire). She dotes on them, really, baking them food and happily showing them how to cook certain dishes. She always laughs off my grumpy behavior whenever one of them comes over, ignoring the fact that I still want to discuss the whole 'incredibly audible sex' thing.

I recall one night they were both over very well. Beth had made them her Southern-style specialty: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans and cornbread. It was almost amusing to watch their banter from across the table. They toned it down, at least, so it came off much more playfully than I'm sure they meant it to be. Beth fussed over the guests, kept asking them if they wanted coffee or something else to drink. I noticed they were all on a first-name basis and wondered when  _that_  had started. Hell, I couldn't even remember their surnames. They were just "221B" to me; it was their apartment number, the only thing I was absolutely certain about with those two. I feel bad now. Sorta. I know Beth has reminded me of their names at least a dozen times and I'm usually too stubborn to care.

One night, I was walking home from the corner store. Their patio, which was off to the side of the building, was in my view as I continued down the street. I stopped just out of their line of sight to observe, hoping to see something about them that my wife apparently already could. It was the kind of night where the temperature was just perfect and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. They were sharing a lounge chair, the younger guy seated in between the older one's legs. They were talking, though it was surprisingly far too soft for me to hear. The younger "221B" had his eyes closed as he listened to something the other said, smiling all the while. His smile widened and he turned his head to kiss the older "221B". I was suddenly struck by how simplistic, yet obviously filled with love, it appeared to be; it was the kind of kiss Beth and I still shared. I started walking into the building, leaving them to their privacy. They are annoyingly loud in almost all aspects of life, but at least now I'm convinced that they actually care for one another.

That being said, the next time they wake me up in the middle of the night, I'm taping a piece of paper to their front door with a message composed of very bold words: "I can hear the two of you having sex."


	61. Excuse Us

Cuddy,

I could sit here and list all of the reasons I'm not coming into work today. Actually, it looks like I already am, so here it goes...

I'm not coming into work today because I don't have to. Contrary to popular belief, my team is capable of taking care of the bare minimum while we don't have an actual case. By 'bare minimum', I, of course, mean 'my clinic hours' and whatever other doctor duties they can think of.

I'm not coming into work today because my leg hurts. This is pretty self-explanatory, but do feel free to email me back if you need further clarification. I wouldn't mind going into gory, disgusting details, so long as it would mean you'd get off of my back for even just a few goddamn hours.

In addition to the very valid previous reasons, I'm not coming into work today due to the fact that I met up with someone at the bar and brought them back to my apartment last night. While they are currently making a rather delicious-smelling breakfast, you can rest assured that they will be back in here, pleasuring me into oblivion before you can roll your eyes and say "Oh god, that was way more than I needed to know".

I'll be happy to come up with more excuses, should you need them.

\- House

p.s. On an unrelated note: Wilson won't be coming into work today, either. Our reasons are totally different. Well, sort of -  _he_ doesn't have a bum leg, after all.'

-...-

"... Greg, you're not  _really_  going to email this to Cuddy, are you?"

"Nope."

"Oh, thank god..."

"'Going to' would imply that I was planning to, when, in fact, I already have."

Silence fell over the room. House's attentions were solely fixated on trying to figure out how Wilson could make something as simple as scrambled eggs taste so damn  _good_. Wilson, meanwhile, glanced sideways at the man just to his left and gave a heavy sigh as he pushed the laptop further back on the table.

"... I  _hate_  you sometimes, you know that?"

"Well, stop the presses."


	62. Revenge, Bills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again more drabbles within a drabble.

_-Revenge-_

House had always prided himself on being able to embarrass Wilson. He went out of his way to do so. It didn't matter how he accomplished such a feat so long as he got the desired result. He enjoyed it so far beyond just  _knowing_  that he'd done so, however; it was better to be able to see the results on Wilson's face. First, the tips of the younger doctor's ears would burn an impossible red and, before long, the rest of his face would follow. His brow would furrow with a mixture of humiliation and anger whenever he knew House was at fault, which was often the case. Finally, his lips. Oh, how amusing it was when they parted and tried to form the words that he would be currently incapable of saying. The person he'd been talking to would give him a curious look if they were a stranger. If it were somebody Wilson knew, it made things that much worse. At least with strangers he could simply pretend to be ill and ask them to come back after he'd had enough time to regain his composure. With the others, there was very little point in asking them to return later. The damage had long been done with them.

For years the younger man had tried to think of the perfect way to get back at House. Each attempt had failed miserably and usually ended with House turning the tables on him. When their friendship had grown beyond just that, Wilson had futilely hoped that the embarrassment would stop. Thinking back on it, he wanted to kick himself for being so naive. They were dating, yes, but that didn't mean that the friendship aspect of their relationship had somehow dissolved. It was convenient in many ways to not have to adjust themselves for the sake of their new partner. They already knew one another's habits, both good and bad, and had long since accepted the other for who they really were. There was no need to skirt around any issues; they were perfectly comfortable with one another. Wilson just wished that for  _once_  he could find something that would embarrass his older companion.

When it eventually did happen, it was completely by accident. The thought hadn't crossed Wilson's mind for several days at that point, and it certainly wasn't on his mind when he and House stumbled into their apartment, clothes being shed and tossed carelessly to the floor, their lips pressed together as they made a desperate attempt to hurry to the bedroom. It had become a repeat of previous nights spent together where House would purposely get his friend just drunk enough to throw his inhibitions to the wind. On those nights, there was no need for romance, no need for rules. The older man would simply ensure they made it home safely and, from there, let Wilson take the reins. The result was always well worth it, regardless of how sore it left House in the morning.

On the morning of Wilson's unplanned success, House woke before his friend, as usual. He staggered into the bathroom and, once he'd finished with his business, turned to the sink. Just as he'd finished washing off his hands, something in the mirror caught his eye. He blinked a few times, hoping what he was seeing was merely thanks to the fact that he was still half-asleep.

No, it was definitely real. Just under his jaw, in the most problematic spot, was a dark purple bruise. A hickey, to be precise. A glaringly obvious, dark, ugly  _hickey_. There would be no way to cover it up at work and, aside from the incredibly dim, everybody would automatically know what it was. He was in his fifties, he didn't get hickeys! He turned his chin this way and that, hoping that the angle he'd seen it in made it worse. He finally stopped and stood, glaring at the mark and suddenly hating himself for shaving the previous evening. Drunk Wilson didn't appreciate his stubble very much.

House heard a stirring from their bed, followed by the shuffling of feet. Wilson appeared in the doorway, hair a mess and his eyes barely open. He opened his mouth to ask House something, instead breaking off into a loud yawn. The oncologist blinked a few times before focusing on the mark he'd given House.

A smile slowly spread across his lips. He leaned closer, kissing House directly on the bruise.

" _What_?" House demanded, scowling at him.

"I told you I'd get you back someday."

-...-

_-Bills-_

He wasn't fully awake, not yet. He was, however, aware of the unusually chilly air, and for some reason the blanket wasn't doing him much good anymore. A chill ran through his spine and, with it, he woke. He noticed that he had tugged up the blanket at some point to cover half of his face, leaving him to breathe in the stuffy air from under the covers. He could feel his companion's chest pressed as closely as it could possibly be to his back, the arm draped over his waist holding him in place. Finally, he braved pulling the blanket down just a few inches.

The apartment was  _freezing_! It felt like somebody had turned on the air conditioning. Wilson gave a frown and ducked back under the covers. It was the middle of January and he had of course made sure that the heater was at an acceptable temperature before going to bed. The only explanation was that it had broken.

Gathering up his courage, Wilson removed himself from House's grasp and slid out of the bed. His hand reached out to turn the lamp on, but it didn't respond when he turned the switch. He searched blindly in the room for a bathrobe, grumbling when he was unable to find one. With a shiver, he felt his way towards the door and reached into the hallway, feeling along the wall for the light switch. He flipped the switch a few times, his frown deepening when nothing happened.

"The hell're you doing...?" A sleepy voice emerged from their bed.

"The electricity's off."

"Who cares? It's nighttime anyways."

"The  _heater_  is off, House. I thought you said you paid the bill!"

"I did." A pause, then, "Oh. Wait. That was the cable bill."

"Great. We have hundreds of channels and no way to watch them." His entire body was shivering by that point. "House, I'm cold."

"So, c'mere."

Wilson heard the sheets being tossed back to allow him access and, with a reluctant sigh, he shuffled back over to the bed. Once he was settled safely under the blanket and warmly chest-to-chest with his friend, he allowed himself a scowl. "You're going to fix this. Right away."

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Jimmy. I'll handle it."

"And in the mean time?"

"Well, I could fart and warm up the bed for you."

"If you do that, I'm kicking you out."

House kissed the other man's forehead. "Then quit complaining."


	63. H is for Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Major character death, angst, implied drug overdose
> 
> This was written for my own personal 'Alphabet Challenge,' for which I am still taking suggestions.

They'd been - partners? lovers? - for a while, and friends even longer. It was nearly impossible to think back on a time when the other wasn't a part of their life, back when Wilson's life was so incredibly dull and _normal_  or when House's was just a huge mess of loneliness. They would have been fine staying friends, at least that's what House used to tell himself. Up to a certain point it really had been enough for him, the meals shared at each others homes with a shared guilty-pleasure show turned on, and being fortunate enough to work at the same hospital and, eventually, with their offices side-by-side. Even their arguments were enjoyable for House. He'd been more than delighted to find out that, when push came to shove, Wilson could be unexpectedly clever or witty and knock House onto his ass, sometimes literally. He was never too mean or too gentle; he'd always been the right balance between the two, the lukewarm constant in House's world. And he always seemed to  _know_ , whether that meant House needed a reality check or he needed the space to ease his mind with a case or a tune on his guitar.

It had been awkward at first when they'd started up the romantic portion of their relationship, never mind the sexual aspect of it. The adjustment it took on both their parts to get past greeting one another with words, as had been their norm for years by then, and on to something as simple as a hug or a kiss had been enough of a struggle on its own. Plagued by personal experiences and social expectations, dates were equally stiff and unsure. Both men pondered and worried over expectations and the inevitable change until they had very nearly called the entire thing off. It had been sheer luck, then, that they seemed to come to the realization that they didn't have to take away from what they already had, but rather could add in the very acts and words that took their relationship beyond friendship. They continued to bicker like always, played pranks on one another, and didn't shy away from calling the other an idiot when it was, or wasn't, completely justified. And that worked for them for many years to come.

They had been comfortable around each other and were made aware of character flaws early on in their friendship. House had gotten used to picking up the pieces after each of Wilson's marriages fell apart and Wilson got used to the drug abuse. Of course, both got better as time passed, as their relationship grew, and eventually those parts of their lives had disappeared almost completely.

Which is why it was such a great shock to Wilson when he came home to find House in a very familiar spot on the floor, vomit drying on his lips and the floor boards. There was an empty pill bottle - expired Vicodin House had kept "just in case", Wilson would later discover - and a near-empty bottle of scotch on the coffee table. He dropped to his knees next to the unmoving form, his mind suddenly blank as the horror spread through him like wildfire. At some point he called an ambulance, that much he knew; in his daze, as he checked House's vitals and  _prayed_ , he could hear the 9-1-1 operator trying to talk to him, but he'd tossed the phone somewhere and he wasn't sure where that was anymore. He felt no pulse, saw no signs of breathing. As he lay his head against the man's chest, hoping to hear the strong heartbeat he'd fallen asleep listening to countless nights, his eyes were transfixed on the blank face. House's hair had grayed more throughout the years, and as always it had been an attractive attribute many people admired about his appearance. His features, emotionless as they were at the time, were still handsome in House's own rugged way.

Wilson wasn't sure how much time had lapsed from when he laid his head down to when the EMT's came rushing in and tugged him away. He couldn't figure out how he'd failed to hear the sirens that now blasted in his ears. There was chaos all around him as House's body was surrounded by people trying to help him, and it seemed like, impossibly, more people crowded the room to help Wilson. Amidst their attempted calming gestures and soothing words, Wilson realized he'd been screaming, for help, for God, for  _something_ to make it all stop.

He would have given anything to do the day over again, to have taken the day off and stay at home like House had asked.

And suddenly there were police officers in the apartment, and the EMT's slowly flooded out of the room once the body had been covered with a sheet. They asked Wilson careful questions, saw the bottles and the raw terror on Wilson's face, and that was the end of their formal investigation. The body was carted off to the morgue for a proper autopsy; "standard procedure", they'd told Wilson when he tried to protest. He swallowed around the thick heat in his throat as they zipped the body bag shut and, like a dam breaking, everything came out of Wilson at once. He screamed, he cried, he got angry and yelled at anyone in his line of vision, but nothing brought House back to him.

-...-

A few weeks after the funeral - and god,  _everybody_  came, didn't they? - Wilson was packing up their stuff, avoiding the area where House had been.

"How did we collect so much shit over the years?" he muttered under his breath, shoving piles of photographs, old and new, into a box. He took more care with the things that mattered: House's personal effects. At some point he knew people would start nagging him to sell them. They always did, like they really understood what the grieving party was going through. He packaged box after box, careful to keep their things separate, until he came upon the guitar House had managed to keep in good condition the entirety of their relationship. One lazy summer day, House had tried teaching Wilson how to play it and Wilson, aggravated that his paper work had been interrupted, shoved it back at him after about twenty minutes. He frowned at the memory, only to smile when he recalled how he'd made it up to the older man later that evening.

After a minute passed in silence, Wilson sat down in the room filled with boxes and old memories, took hold of the guitar and, with a new found determination, set out to teach himself how to play.


	64. V is for Vulnerable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Chapter 63. Same warnings apply!

Wilson had moved into a small one-bedroom apartment a month and a half after House's death. He had kept all of House's stuff, aside from what his mother had asked for, in a storage unit for the time being. Although the guitar, that very thing that used to annoy him to no end when it was played in the middle of the night, seemed to stay with him wherever he went. 

 

Chase had taken over as Head of Diagnostic Medicine (apparently surgery lost its appeal, or maybe it was his way of keeping House close) and he, Foreman, and Wilson would still occasionally hang out. It was nothing more than a small comfort for Wilson, but he supposed it was the best way to keep people from accusing him of drawing into himself too much. Besides, they weren't terrible company and, while listening to them, he sometimes heard snarky comments in House's voice floating around in his head -- he had to hold onto whatever part of House he could, even if it meant he was going a bit crazy.

 

At first, Wilson had gone to visit his grave nearly every day. It was mostly to yell at House, to scream at him for being a selfish bastard and leaving him all alone in a world that looked much more mediocre without him to liven it up. It always took him becoming hoarse to realize he'd started crying; he would sit with his shoulder against the side of the gravestone and just let it out, often spending entire afternoons or evenings at the cemetery. Cuddy had found him once when it was raining and she sat down beside him, holding an umbrella over them and not saying a word unless Wilson spoke to her. As time passed, however, he didn't visit the grave as often; it was almost like House was compelling him to stay away, telling him there were much better uses of his time. When he did visit after that, it wasn't to yell and let out his anguish, but to show his old friend how he was coming along with the guitar. 

 

Time passed both too slowly and too quickly. Some days it felt like he would never finish his work and other days it was as though he was leaving the office almost as soon as he arrived. Everything was surreal, like he was watching somebody else's increasingly boring life. Reality became a distant memory and soon he stopped caring about what was and wasn't real. He could fake it well enough that it only seemed like he was just an odd -- if still empathetic -- oncologist with his patients. His colleagues, thankfully, ignoring his growing eccentricities, citing it all as his "reaction to what happened to House" (and maybe it was, but it was as though they were blaming House for Wilson's actions; in that case, Wilson thought it only fair that they blame him for what House had done). 

 

Less than a year after House's passing, precisely on his birthday, Wilson arrived in his office to find the largest bouquet of assorted roses he had ever seen placed directly in the center of his desk. Curious, he quickly shed his coat and set aside his briefcase before going to inspect the flowers. There was a small card stuck in the colorful jungle, which he carefully wrestled away from the display. As soon as he opened it, tears filled his eyes as he couldn't help but laugh.

 

_ 'Wilson, _

_ _

_ Hope this crap is romantic enough for you.  You owe me big when we get home, if-you-know-what-I-mean. _

__

_ \- House _

__

_ p.s. I pre-paid for these with your credit card about a year ago and you never noticed. I'm appalled.' _

 

\--

 

  
_"Wilson... Wilson!_ ...  Wilson!"  


He jerked awake with a start, sitting up straight to find himself in a bed that seemed so distantly familiar. He looked around wildly as someone reached to turn on the bedside lamp, freezing when the room became illuminated. 

"House," he said breathlessly, "where...?"

"Oh c'mon. I know I told you I was working late on a case tonight." House did his best to look annoyed, but he seemed far too worried for it to pass as real. "You scared me. I walk in at two a.m. to hear you screaming and crying like you were being murdered. And there you were, asleep."

Wilson swallowed thickly, reaching a hand up to wipe at the tear tracks staining his face. "I-It was a dream?"

"A hell of one, too, from the sound of things. You should probably--" Before he could finish his line of thought, Wilson nearly knocked the air out of him as he yanked House close, pressing a hard kiss on his lips.

"I... House, you were  _dead_ ," Wilson muttered when he finally pulled away, his lungs screaming for air. 

"Well, I'm not," he groused, though his expression seemed much softer now. Standing, he quickly shed his shoes and jeans before motioning for Wilson to scoot over. The younger man moved just far enough to allow House to lay down before he pressed against him again, resting his head beneath House's chin. "... Wanna stay home tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

 

"Alright."

 

They lay in silence for several minutes before House put an arm around him and gave him a tight squeeze.  "Maybe next time you'll listen to me when I tell you to stop eating Thai food right before bed?"   


 

At that, Wilson broke out into a fit of laughter, feeling the tension and pain slowly ease from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me so long to update this. With school and interning, I had very little time or energy for anything else. But now that I've graduated, hopefully I can get back on track with this and other projects!


End file.
